


Atlantis 2020: Milestones

by Seaward



Series: Atlantis 2020 [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Cultural Differences, Don't copy to another site, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, M/M, Major Illness, NaNoWriMo, Nonbinary Character, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 80,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22589677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaward/pseuds/Seaward
Summary: In 2020, news reaches the Lanteans that Carson nearly died while working to establish a Network of Healers. Ronon and Rodney welcome him back to Atlantis in very different ways. Meanwhile, Rodney and John are still figuring out what they want from each other and for themselves. And Madison Miller is all grown up and working with robots on Atlantis.
Relationships: Carson Beckett/Ronon Dex, Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Series: Atlantis 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625404
Comments: 58
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Elayna for reading whatever I send her, no matter how long or what I throw in. I could never have made it to this point in my writing without her. As usual, I tinkered with the final draft, and all remaining mistakes are mine.

"After fifteen years as the senior team on Atlantis, surely we rate more important missions than market duty," Rodney whined. "At least I do. I'm the smartest person in two galaxies, the leading expert on wormholes and ZedPMs, saved Atlantis single-handedly"—John cleared his throat and Rodney flapped a hand in his direction—"almost single-handedly over a dozen times. You can't even count how many of my contributions have been key to our survival. Besides, my feet ache, and this stupid backwater flea market doesn't have the almost-churros stand today."

"Doesn't matter to the Gate rotation. And don't go around calling us the 'senior team,'" John stretched the last two words into a mock drawl as Teyla led them toward a vendor with an elaborate display of spices beneath a spotted hide awning. "You don't want to hear the sort of jokes that will come from that."

"You're the one who's scared of turning 50 next week. Having summited that hill before you, I am proud of my seniority. Fifty-two years as the smartest person in two galaxies!" Rodney's loud gloating was cut short by a single raised eyebrow from Teyla. She nodded toward the myriad earthen pots in front of them and waited for the scientist to pull out the paper list they insisted he use for market day.

"I'm not _scared_ of turning 50. I just don't want a party." The military commander slouched against a pole that shifted under his weight, making the partial shade over the spice booth waver. Whatever his issues around aging, John still looked incredibly fit and his gravity defying hair didn't show a hint of gray or a receding hairline like Rodney's.

Ronon raised a hand above John's head to steady the pole and awning. He was still all muscles, barely hidden by his tac vest and the similarly cut leather he wore beneath it. The curls that framed his face made him look younger than the heavy mound of dreads he'd arrived with fourteen years before, let alone the strain from fighting the Wraith as a Runner and for the years after that when they'd still terrorized the Pegasus Galaxy.

Rodney waved the shopping list back and forth as he sniped at John, "Then I guess I don't need to find you a present, which means there's even less point to our team taking market duty."

Teyla, who hadn't needed the extra years to cement her authority, seemed to loom over Rodney despite being several inches shorter than anyone else on the team. At a single flip of her hand, Rodney proceeded to read out spice names as Teyla sniffed and tasted samples provided by the vender.

"See you as an elder already," Ronon said to John without a smile or a shrug.

"Then why don't I get any respect?" John asked, still leaning on the pole beneath Ronon's grip.

Ronon didn't so much as twitch in response.

Just as Teyla was paying for and bundling up their spice purchases, a woman in billowing yellow robes came pushing her way across the crowded market lane. "You are the Lanteans, at last. Have you yet received the news of Healer Carson?"

Sheppard stood up straight, as formal as he ever was. "Yes, we're Lantean, but we haven't heard from Carson in months. What news?"

"Our beloved Healer is beyond healing himself and lies close to death on Lo Seco." The woman spread her arms wide, yellow sleeves waving in the breeze. "You must hurry if you hope to show respect before he dies. The entire Network of Healers has been charged to pass this message to any Lanteans we encounter. I hope I am not too late."

"What's wrong with him? How long—" Rodney began, but Teyla stepped between him and the messenger, cutting him off. A lump rose in Rodney's throat such that he couldn't have said more anyway.

Ronon shifted forward with arms crossed, and Rodney could have sworn the big man was also having trouble swallowing.

"Please, would you walk with us toward the Ring of the Ancestors and tell us all you know?" Teyla asked gently of the healer.

Rodney kept close enough to hear every word, forgetting the pain in his feet. The woman in yellow fell in step with Teyla, clasping her arm and leaning in close. Teyla did not pull away. "I only know what I am told. The Bad Blood is not a disease my people experience. But those on Lo Seco and several other worlds know it well. They have teas that ease the pain but rarely cure. Healer Carson fell down in exhaustion before anyone knew he had the bruises and bleeding common to those suffering. Now he can barely keep food down, which always means death is near."

When the woman fell silent, swaying her head in time with her steps as they all hurried toward the Gate, Teyla asked, "Can you tell me how to find Carson once we reach Lo Seco?"

"The medical center our network helped to build is there. It is marked with the red cross that is the custom of your healers as well as a yellow trim. You'll find it within easy view of the main road that leads out from the Ring of the Ancestors."

"Thank you," Teyla said, as they neared the local Gate. "May I gift you with coin or spices for bringing us this news?"

"No, no. I do this for our beloved Healer and as one who serves the Network of Healers."

"Then I thank you for your service as a healer and his friend." Teyla clasped the woman's arms and touched their foreheads together.

As Rodney dialed the Alpha Site where they would need to check in first, he saw Ronon motion across his chest as he said, "Respect to all healers and those who aid them."

John managed to say thanks while rushing toward the opening Gate. Rodney didn't say anything as he hurried right beside John.

#

On Lo Seco they found Carson unconscious, lying in a nest of straw mats and blankets surrounded by what seemed to be mosquito netting. His skin was ashen and his hair more salt than pepper now. The planet was hot and humid, with sunlight too harsh and white. Rodney hated it at once. "We have to get him out of here."

"Wait for the medical team we called from the Alpha Site," John said.

Ronon grunted.

A local healer who'd introduced himself as Tan Po objected, "Moving him will cause more bruising and could lead to him bleeding to death. Please, at this stage all we can offer is comfort and a peaceful death."

"Is he drugged? Is that why he's unconscious? How can you give up on Carson like that? He's been through too much to die in some backward cesspool that treats sick people like animals to be put out of their misery." Rodney was pushing his way under the netting even as Teyla kicked him in the shin.

"Forgive my teammate, Healer Tan Po. He is overcome with worry for his friend," Teyla said. "Their people have their own ways of healing and would be honored if you could share samples of the medicines Carson has been treated with. From what you say, giving peace of mind to those who survive him may be the most agreeable resolution at this point."

The healer stood his ground. "Further bruising could be fatal. I cannot agree with moving him."

Ronon planted himself in the middle of their argument. "I claim my elder and wish to bring him home."

Tan Po grated his teeth. "I will fetch Healer Carson's next dose of medicine. Please encourage your teammates to be as gentle as possible in their grieving state."

"Rodney, don't touch him." John was hissing in a too loud whisper. "What if that healer is right and you hurt him? Or what if this disease in contagious?"

Whatever his friend and sometimes lover thought, Rodney was health-obsessed enough to have only touched Carson over his blankets and very gently. Despite his initial worries, the layers swaddling Carson were clean and smelled of an herb the Athosians used to repel insects and disinfect wounds. To Rodney the scent was reminiscent of eucalyptus mixed with basil, and not at all unpleasant. Beneath the light blankets, what Rodney could see of Carson's skin was cracked and yellowish in places, bruised and streaked with red in others. He looked like the living dead from some horror film, and Rodney was powerless to do anything but hope the Atlantis medical team would be able to transport him safely to their infirmary.

Rodney sniffed and was surprised to wipe his face and find it wet. But he wasn't ashamed of crying for Carson. He'd done worse the first time he lost his friend—when he'd taken the original Carson's body back to Earth and had to tell the man's mother what he could. A year later they'd found the cloned version of Carson, only to discover he was dying of a degenerative condition caused by Michael's cloning process. Once that threat was halted, Carson abandoned Rodney and all his friends to tend to Pegasus natives and survivors of the Hoffan drug. After flying Atlantis home to save Earth, Carson had left again to build his Network of Healers. Still Rodney had assumed Carson would come back at some point, perhaps when they faced whatever huge threat took the place of the Wraith. He wasn't prepared to watch one of his oldest friends die…again.

Soon the mosquito netting was pulled aside as someone in a bright yellow biohazard suit pushed Rodney backward and started forcing him into a biohazard suit of his own. Before whoever it was finished fastening Rodney's hood, the scientist heard Dr. Srisuk, the latest Chief Medical Officer for Atlantis, speaking through his own suit's radio, "Shift on three, very gently, one, two, three. We're going to carry not roll him given the rough surface leading to the Gate. And keep an eye on those vitals. Full decontamination for this entire team as soon as we reach Atlantis."

In the background, Rodney could hear Teyla making polite apologies to Tan Po, her own voice muffled behind the protective clothing she had donned as well.

Ronon loomed beside the stretcher, positioning himself more like a guard than an honor guard, even with his blaster hidden beneath his yellow biohazard covering.

Tan Po sounded irate behind them, but too professional to shout in his own workplace. Rodney didn't care if they caused an interplanetary scandal. All he wanted was to see Carson safely home.

#

Madison was not comfortable. They counted the number of military personnel headed for Atlantis—eleven—those not in uniform—three—and those in scientific or other versions of the same Atlantis uniform they wore—seventeen. Still feeling twitchy and anxious, they counted the number of containers loaded on pallets or ready to be hand-carried through the Stargate—117.

Two insulated containers secured at the top of the forwardmost pallet were marked with the red cross symbol. Those were the reason Madison and other new hires were going to Atlantis early and in a not at all reassuring rush. Some unspecified medical emergency had necessitated opening a wormhole to Pegasus today. Madison would be starting their new job and graduate school position only two weeks after learning about the SGC, Atlantis, and the Ancients.

The wormhole formed with a whooshing, gurgling sound that made Madison swallow and press clammy hands deep into the pockets of their black science uniform pants. The crowd that had initially been pressed too close for comfort gradually moved up the ramp, stepping through what looked like a vertical pool of water, despite Madison having reviewed the Ancient math and science involved in Stargate travel. A startling jab from behind had Madison lifting two cases and following the herd, with next to no awareness of the faces and voices all around.

Uphill, through a fizzing chill that seeped more than skin deep. Downhill, into a room of colored windows and smooth red floor. There were too many patterns and scattered lights for Madison to fully process before the scientists were sent through a door to the right and instructed to stack all containers by the wall in a smaller room with a narrower set of stunning colored glass windows.

"Madison Miller," a high-pitched voice called, not loudly, but clear to Madison's ears.

Madison hurried across the room and blurted out, "I'm Madison Miller."

"Dr. Miko Kusanagi, pronouns she/her. I'll be your academic advisor and direct supervisor." The speaker was at least half a foot shorter than Madison, at least twenty years older, and didn't make eye contact. She did hold out a hand, which Madison shook briefly and found dry and cool.

Madison almost repeated their introduction, with pronouns, but realized if this was their advisor then she'd read all of Madison's paperwork already. That might be why she'd offered pronouns in the first place.

"Would you like to go someplace quieter to talk?" Dr. Kusanagi made a low motion with her arm toward a nearby door.

"Yes, thanks."

Madison followed Kusanagi down a hall and into one of the transporters—a technology Madison had not had nearly enough opportunity to study ahead of time—without comment. After stepping through a wormhole to another galaxy, Madison figured they'd give Ancient tech the benefit of the doubt.

Kusanagi seemed to slow her movements to allow Madison to view their destination on the transporter controls, but barely flicked her eyes upward to confirm understanding. While whoever compiled Madison's security clearance could have mentioned their reluctance to sustain eye contact, Kusanagi seemed to avoid it even more. The way she held herself suggested that despite the handshake she may be touch averse as well, and there was no way to tell if she removed Madison from the noisy crowded environment for Madison's sake or her own. Either way, it might bode well for their working relationship.

At a door three down from where the transporter released them, Kusanagi said, "This is my preferred lab, sometimes referred to as CS-3." She opened the door into a long, narrow space lined with both Ancient and Earth consoles as well as other tech. At the far end was one large arched window filled with blue and green glass in a simple geometric pattern. "There's plenty of space for you." She waved to a bare desk on the left beside an Ancient console and a precarious stack of boxes. Just to the right of that, Kusanagi led Madison through another door saying, "This is my office. Would you like tea or coffee?"

Madison agreed to tea, mostly to stall, as they stared out through the clear glass window beside their new advisor's desk. No professor at Caltech, no matter how coveted their office, had a view like this. It was Madison's first real glimpse of the snowflake-shaped city where they'd signed a five year contract to study, work, and live. Tall towers rose in whites and grays, like a crystal garden they'd grown as a kid, but there was more greenery down below than Madison had expected. Greenhouses and sheltered gardens covered half the areas near sea level as well as several balconies and glassed in rooms higher up. From the apparent size of the people moving about below, Madison guessed Kusanagi's lab was at least 80 yards above sea level.

"Here," Kusanagi handed Madison a cup of tea that was pleasantly warm in their still chilly hands.

Madison sat in one of two chairs that faced Kusanagi's desk and realized it was time to begin.

"Obviously, I wasn't expecting you until next month," Kusanagi said, resting one hand by the tea she'd poured herself. "How much of your preparation materials did you have time to study?"

"I skimmed it all," Madison began, raising their eyes out of long training, only to find Kusanagi not only hiding behind her glasses but staring intently down into her tea. Madison took the opportunity to notice their advisor wore no make-up or jewelry, but kept her long dark hair in a tidy bun. Her black science uniform was clean and unwrinkled, and she gave Madison plenty of time to pause without interruption. "I learned the safety regulations thoroughly: when not to touch or even think at anything, which areas of the city not to enter without an escort or at all, where to go during various emergencies, which crystals must never be mixed. I only glanced through the offworld protocols, figuring I wouldn't need that for a while. I think I have a pretty good handle on Ancient machine language, data search algorithms, and storage tech, but the language the Ancients themselves wrote and spoke is taking me a lot longer."

"Here. Tell me what this code does." Kusanagi pushed a tablet across the desk.

Madison picked it up, scanned the modular structure of the program and sank their attention into the details. Several minutes later Madison felt calm and self-assured for the first time in weeks. "It's a security program for locking doors on Atlantis. It identifies those with active ATA sequences by brain patterns as well as error checking for voice and various health factors. The error checking factors can be used to identify individuals without ATA." Madison glanced up, almost catching Kusanagi's eye by accident. "I had the ATA shot on Earth and it worked, so I may not be the strongest, but I was an ATA carrier and it's activated now."

When Kusanagi only nodded, Madison continued with what she suspected Kusanagi wanted to hear. "I notice there's a loop in this code that is supposed to allow someone with active ATA to override security settings if a room's occupant is dead inside. But one variable it calls is undefined, suggesting some other part of the code was deleted leaving that portion inoperable."

"Right. We fixed that, by the way. Let me bring up another sample." Kusanagi took the tablet back and then handed Madison a much more complicated section of code to study.

After several minutes Madison said, "This looks like advanced machine learning, maybe potential AI, after several iterations of training."

"Do you see any errors?" Kusanagi asked.

"From what I read, we aren't supposed to interfere with Ancient tech that's moved past prediction into decision making based on possibly unknown factors." Madison hoped that was the point of this test.

"But do you see any potential errors?" Kusanagi set her tea cup aside and stared at an Ancient monitor on her desk. Her shoulders visibly relaxed.

"As I suspect you're aware, I've only completed a Master's degree in computer science. Only a couple of my classes dealt with machine learning or prediction machines, let alone what's popularly called AI on Earth. Until I was read in on the Stargate program two weeks ago, I'd never studied anything like this. I didn't think anyone was close to managing general AI."

"Understood," Kusanagi's fingers moved quickly across her Ancient console even as she continued speaking calmly to Madison. "That tablet is now issued to you and has other code samples of interest."

"Thanks," Madison replied, quickly identifying icons for a calendar and messaging.

"Eighteen is the youngest the Atlantis charter will allow me to hire," Kusanagi spoke as if continuing a thought. "I graduated from Caltech as well, with a doctorate, but I know what a Master's there is worth and what it means to earn that so young. Have you seen the research on training adolescents to operate robots using VR interfaces?"

"No, although I did a summer research project using a VR interface for an underwater drone."

"I know. How long did it take before you felt natural manipulating six sampling arms and a rudder?" A pause in Kusanagi's typing was the only indication she was waiting for an answer.

"A couple days," Madison answered. She hadn't expected that to be the part of her resume that landed her a paid grad student position, but she'd prefer that to nepotism.

"Studies show thirteen to sixteen-year-olds adjust their body image and responses fastest. But with your IQ and background, I'm gambling your brain is flexible enough."

"You want me to operate robots in VR?"

"No." There was a long pause that Madison didn't know how to interpret. Kusanagi ended it with a quick sideways hand gesture in the direction of Madison's new tablet. "You have email queuing for Earth contacts, local system messaging, and office systems already set up on that tablet. I prefer to communicate electronically, but you can speak to me in person whenever I'm in this office or lab."

Madison relaxed at this further commonality with their advisor. "I prefer emails or texts as well. I gather those both boil down to the same system within Atlantis."

"You can configure your tablet or other devices to format and alert you to messaging in whichever format you prefer." Kusanagi was now typing faster and focusing more intently on her Ancient console and an Earth laptop on her desk. After a long pause she said, "Do you want me to show you to your room and other labs, or would you rather work though the welcome materials and mapping on the tablet yourself?"

Madison checked the home screen on their tablet and found the welcome file, mapping app, and further detailed instructions for new scientists. It was obvious which answer Kusanagi wanted, but Madison couldn't resist asking, "Is Dr. McKay still the Chief Science Officer on Atlantis, and will I be reporting to him at all?"

"He's really not that bad." Kusanagi answered, seeming distracted, and certainly not as if she was aware Dr. McKay was Madison's uncle. Madison let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding before Kusanagi added, "Anyway, he's in quarantine right now, so you may not encounter him for a while."

"Quarantine? For what?" They hadn't ever been close, but Madison's throat tightened and their heart sped at the thought he was in danger.

Kusanagi's hands paused for a moment, and she tilted her head as if questioning what she'd heard. "Not anyone's business, except for those in or dealing with the quarantine. Trust me, you're benefitting from a decade and a half of learning from our mistakes out here. His team won't be released until Dr. Srisuk is sure they're safe."

#

Rodney jumped up from his hospital bed as Dr. Srisuk entered the stark white quarantine room in his blazing yellow biohazard suit. Teyla and John sat on their beds. Ronon had already been standing near the entrance and didn't move a muscle.

"Good news, we have a vaccine and anti-virals." Dr. Srisuk paused at a prep table to unpack several long needles and vials.

"And you're sure this will work, on a Pegasus virus we discovered yesterday? Did you already give this to Carson? Are we your test subjects? I have allergies and hypoglycemia. I hope you've considered that within your pseudo-scientific methods." Rodney peered down at the needles. Despite his protests, he was eager to get out of quarantine and to know his team and Carson would be safe.

Srisuk nodded at Rodney and only said, "Yes." Then he turned to the others to say, "The vaccine has been fully tested and found safe by SGC, and I've tested in vitro to prove it works on the strain of virus Carson encountered. I'll need a new blood sample from each of you now, before I give you the shot. Then we'll do another round of blood tests and a full body scan in twelve hours before I can release you from quarantine."

John was already holding out his arm. They had all changed into scrubs after decontamination, so there weren't any long sleeves or jackets to remove.

"Could we at least be in the same quarantine room as Carson? Or have a video feed?" Rodney knew Srisuk took patient confidentiality seriously, but they were the ones who had rescued Carson from what appeared to be certain death. When Srisuk shook his head, Rodney changed strategies, figuring he could hack in with any reasonable tech. "Could I at least have a networked tablet or laptop? I'm the Chief Science Officer. You have no idea the trouble my minions can get into when left unsupervised."

The doctor didn't answer Rodney until he'd finished all four blood draws and immunizations. "This room has a standard entertainment screen those without ATA can access verbally. I'm sure you all understand why outside materials cannot be brought in and out of quarantine. Besides, rest is good for your immune systems, and I doubt that any of you get enough of it. I'd suggest you take this opportunity to catch up on sleep, meditate, or at least relax."

It surprised Rodney only a little when Ronon asked, "Someone with Carson?"

"We're taking very good care of him, and he is monitored constantly. I assure you." With that evasive piece of doctor-ese, Srisuk left.

#

Madison woke the next morning to a loud ticking sound. It turned out to be coming from their tablet, which automatically charged when placed on the nightstand beside the bed, and had activated a countdown feature for a meeting in twenty minutes. No meetings had been on Madison's calendar the day before, and the late notice was annoying. But it was also nice to have some structure for the day and a chance to meet coworkers after spending the previous afternoon exploring alone, both physically and via materials on their tablet or online.

Having taken advantage of their ATA controlled shower options the night before, Madison was able to pull on a clean black science uniform, brush their teeth, and be completely presentable in under five minutes. They even took the time to dampen and comb their blondish-brown hair, which was short enough people usually didn't notice if they just ran their fingers through it in the morning.

Then Madison walked down the long hallway of single person rooms for scientists—in which their room appeared to be as far from a transporter as possible—seeing no one along the way. The transporter took them to a basement level they hadn't explored yet that seemed to contain more storage rooms than labs or meeting areas. So they weren't entirely surprised when they reached the assigned meeting location and found a large windowless room half filled with tools and shelves full of electronics, crystals, and unidentifiable items.

The countdown on their tablet showed they were two minutes early, and for a moment Madison thought they were the first to arrive. Then a boxy waist high bot with four independently oriented wheels scooted up saying, "Please, take a seat over here." The voice came from an appendage with a grapefruit-sized ball at the end containing what appeared to be two camera lenses and two antennae, but no visible speaker. Over the course of those six words, the ball shape had been raised to nearly the height of Madison's shoulder, about four and a half feet, and the antennae twitched like punctuation at the end. A separate appendage unfolded to point Madison toward a cleared space in the right rear of the room

Three chairs had been positioned facing inward at what could have been the vertices of an equilateral triangle. The chairs were all empty, but eleven robots of various shapes and sizes had positioned themselves to form a circle that included all three chairs. One of the waiting bots was small and disk-shaped, reminding Madison of a Roomba. A couple of others were wider, sturdier versions of the bot who had greeted Madison, but with fully retractable appendages. The largest bot present was made up of three metallic body segments with numerous wheel, leg, or tread options as well as a label painted large on each side that read H511.

"Thank you," Madison said, sitting down in the nearest chair. It was hard and metal, cold but very sturdy.

The bot that had greeted Madison took a position to the their right in the circle. Over a minute passed with no conversation as eight more bots arrived. One reconfigured from a quadrupedal form to bipedal and sat on a chair. The others filled spaces in the circle and often adjusted their frameworks or at least one appendage upward to be closer to Madison's eye level. Most were significantly smaller than humans in their mobile and more compact forms. None were of an intimidating size or appeared weaponized, but Madison tensed and rocked a little in their seat, very aware of being the only human amid a circle of nineteen bots.

Then sixteen silver bots, each about a foot long and segmented like a sow bug, swarmed in together. They came through a vent in the wall, not the door, most initially rolling on wheels. They filled a space in the circle about two chairs wide, but rather than lining up side by side, several of them extended legs to climb completely or partially on top of each other.

By the time Madison's tablet indicated the meeting should begin, the newest bots had settled into a mostly stable configuration, although at least one or two of them seemed to be squirming or adjusting position at any given moment, making soft rubbing or motor revving sounds. Two of the larger bots in the circle blinked on lights. The door Madison had entered through slid shut.

After what couldn't have been more than five seconds of silence, the bot that had switched to bipedal form to sit in a chair turned a triangular face with two telescoping lenses toward Madison and said, "Will you open the meeting?"

"Umm, I'm new here and not really sure what's expected. My name is Madison Miller, pronouns they and them. I'm a graduate student and lab assistant to Dr. Kusanagi."

"We support you," several robotic voices responded as one. Madison was instantly reminded of a post-apocalyptic fanfic they'd written where one of the last surviving humans was a therapist who ran group counselling sessions for bots drawn from various book, TV, or movie fandoms. The bots had all sat in a circle and shared their angst about being newly sentient, having lost human or bot teammates, or coming to terms with budding sexual or romantic relationships. But that was fic Madison had written under a pseudonym on Earth where it seemed reasonable to assume no actual bots would be reading it.

Madison remembered to breathe, remembered to keep breathing, and tried to remember how the bot to their right had just introduced themselves—MedBot 3, they/them, not sure if they had emotions or errors regarding Dr. Carson's return. For the time being, Madison didn't try to understand or process their own emotions. They just tried to remember each bot's name and any people or issues that they mentioned. They tried to say, "We support you," after each introduction as close to in unison with the bots as possible.

The first six bots—MedBot 3, H511, PoolSweeper, and LabBots 4, 1, and 2—all specified they/them pronouns, so that was at least easy to remember. Other than MedBot 3, the problems mentioned were all work related, not having access to work areas or dealing with human co-workers who didn't understand their capabilities and limitations.

Then they reached the ever shifting pile of sixteen small bots, and Madison was unsure which bot was speaking sometimes. These bots all seemed to be named for fictional characters (ranging from R2-D2 to Pluto) and most specified the pronouns that went with those characters. The one named Goose specified he/him, which made Madison wonder if Goose referenced some other character than the Flerken in Captain Marvel who was usually referred to with she/her pronouns. But in the overall scope of issues Madison was trying to sort and track right then, that seemed like a minor point. They redoubled their efforts to take in information and memorize names as if there were going to be a test at the end.

Madison managed to stay focused on the introductions without too much more mental commentary or emotional distraction until the bot sitting in a chair said, "My name is Murderbot. My pronouns are they and them. Right now I'm mostly concerned with the marginalization of bots and other groups on Atlantis and that we don't have any representative or voice in city discussions."

"We support you," the group responded.

"Murderbot?" Madison blurted, "As in the stories by Martha Wells?"

"Yes," the bot responded with a bob of their triangular head similar to a nod.

"Aren't you worried about people taking that the wrong way?" Madison loved the _Murderbot Diaries_ series, but had been hesitant to pick it up at first due to the name.

"Humans can access the stories from the public science server." The bot's tone was flatter than before and they didn't so much as twitch, suddenly more like a statue than either human or bot.

A bot earlier introduced as LabBot 1—a boxier and sturdier variation on the Medbot frame—seemed to speak faster and louder than before to say, "You can't even accept their name. Why do we need you?"

LabBot 2 replied just as loudly but at a slower pace, "The humans named a BC-304 'Daedalus' after a fictitious scientist who chose wax as a flight material and had a fifty percent casualty rate on his first trial. Is Murderbot a worse name than that?"

"As far as first impressions with humans? Yes." Madison answered LabBot 2 easily, even looking toward their cameras in a way that would have been uncomfortable with a human making eye contact. "But I didn't mean to be insulting about the name. I read the stories and enjoyed the Murderbot character's humor and self-awareness. I just wasn't sure if you realized how humans might respond."

"We're all smarter than you," LabBot 1 said. "I don't need therapy. This meeting is an inefficient use of my time." Then they turned and wheeled out of the room, the door opening just long enough to let them through.

When Madison looked back around the circle, several cameras and other likely sensory devices were focused on them. "Sorry. I'm new here, and I may make some mistakes. Also, I'm not a therapist and am not really sure what I'm supposed to be doing in this meeting."

"Stating the obvious," LabBot 2 said without inflection, while turning their most obvious cameras toward Murderbot.

Murderbot raised joints that could best be described as shoulders to shrug. "We read your publication 'Bot Therapy.'"

Madison started to tap their feet then forced them still. "You know it was fiction? Fanfiction? Written under a pseudonym? That wasn't on my resume when I applied for this position. At the time, I had no idea Atlantis or bots like you existed."

"Stating the obvious," LabBot 2 said.

"We support you," MedBot 3 said.

Murderbot turned to face one way and then the other. It could have been a very perfunctory head shake or a way to better scan the room. "Are you aware of the limitations the Ancients imposed on devices with potential for independent decision making?"

The question did not put Madison at ease the way Kusanagi's had. They didn't think Murderbot would actually murder them, but they felt set up for failure and greatly outnumbered. "I know you can't interface directly with each other or computer systems. I know we're not allowed to interfere with your code."

"We'd self-destruct if you tried," LabBot 2 said.

Suddenly Madison felt very tired and underprepared. Still unsure how this meeting was supposed to have gone, they wished they could start over. "Kusanagi gave me some code samples to study."

"From a destroyed bot," Murderbot said. Tone flat and body language unmoving.

"What do you want me to do?" Madison asked.

"If we knew that, we wouldn't need you," one of the small swarming bots said.

"We learn by interacting, with humans or each other, and seeing the consequences of our actions," Murderbot said. "The Earthlings limited us to only interacting with certain people, mostly scientists, in certain places, mostly science areas. If we want more training material, we can read, watch, or listen to media, much the way humans do although at faster processing speeds. Kusanagi set up motion sensors"—Murderbot waved to the shelves full of devices stored in the large meeting room—"to circumvent some restrictions on our interactions with Ancient tech and we can use manual controls on Earth tech. So we learn from stories, much as my namesake, Murderbot, did."

"You watch Earth media?" Madison asked. "I'm guessing you know it's full of prejudices and bad science?"

"Stating the obvious," LabBot 2 said.

"That's why Dr. Kusanagi let us read the materials she collected on you and her other student candidates." Murderbot stood and walked across the circle to stand in front of Madison, tall and gleaming, making Madison feel very small. "While you receive training from her and us, you will also be part of our training." Murderbot nodded and continued out of the circle, saying in a very flat voice, "I think that's enough for today."

#

Rodney let John body check him into the supply room down the hall from the infirmary as soon as they were released from quarantine. This had become more and more common in the years after "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" was repealed. When one or both of them was released following an extended stay in the infirmary, they ended up here. Rodney was pressed against shelves stocked with toilet paper and the Atlantis version of recyclable towels as John pressed and rubbed their bodies together while grasping Rodney's ass.

It took a few minutes for the genius to reel in his research checklist, his need to hound minions, his desire for a shower (noticing John needed one, too), and his recurring suspicions that either John or the bots kept other humans from ever entering this supply room. By then John had both their scrub shirts off and their pants down. Crazy hair tickled Rodney's chin as John nipped at his nipples. But it was John's hand fondling his balls while the other slid across his hole that caused Rodney to moan and focus his attention.

"There you are," John mumbled against his chest before licking downward and taking Rodney's cock deep into his throat.

One swallow had Rodney staring down. Gripping John's hair. The flyboy had no gag reflex. He could have taken Rodney apart in seconds after so long without this, but he pulled back to tongue at the crown of Rodney's cock and massage behind his balls without pushing into his hole.

"More. I need more." Rodney tugged at John's hair the way both of them enjoyed, knowing no one would be able to tell the difference afterward—one more reason Rodney secretly liked John's hair.

John laughed around his mouthful before pulling off completely to say, "You always want more."

The words struck a bit too close to home, but a sudden flurry of quick, shallow suction had Rodney fully focused on John again, especially his mouth. How many years had he imagined John's lips wrapped around his cock in exactly this position? And John knew how to use those lips—and his tongue. It was as if John wrote equations with his tongue along the base of Rodney's cock. He traced orbits around the crown and plotted trajectories along the slit.

If it weren't for the shelves bracing behind and his finger buried in John's hair in front, Rodney would have lost his balance. He couldn't feel his legs. Every nerve ending near his groin was lit up with orgasm as John sucked him deep again. Swallowing to pull every last ounce of pleasure from Rodney's body.

Only then did John ease the befuddled scientist to the floor. Standing tall, he nudged his own red, swollen erection between Rodney's unresisting lips. It took every neuron the genius could collect to suck in his cheeks and cradle the cock on his tongue. In the early months, Rodney had studied techniques and responses, filled spreadsheets with stimulus and response trials. It turned out, when John wanted release after a mission, he like Rodney blissed out and barely conscious enough to hold his mouth closed.

It was John's turn to grasp Rodney's hair, fine and sparse as it might be. He'd guide Rodney's mouth where he wanted it, not too rough, just easing in and out. It hadn't taken the genius long to master his own gag reflex. So John could glide in deep, and Rodney would swallow on reflex around John's hot, swollen cock. Being used that way satisfied something Rodney hadn't acknowledged before and rarely thought about when he wasn't a post-orgasmic heap of barely sparking brain cells.

Now John filled his throat, cutting off his air supply only long enough for John to shudder through his own orgasm. That made Rodney's eyes flutter open, blurrily appreciating the still taut muscles of John's abdomen and chest. The arch of his neck pulled back in near silent ecstasy. He gave that to John.

But only moments later John was pulling his scrubs back into place from whatever shelf he'd stashed their clothes on.

He tossed Rodney his own set. "Genius enough to dress yourself now?"

Rodney only groaned, but John laughed, taking it for assent.

As John slipped out the door, Rodney took a few deep breaths. It was always hard to pull himself back together after these encounters. They'd never had the sort of relationship where they'd stay the night together after sex, but at least when beds or even balconies were involved, John would usually stick around for a little recovery time. The supply room hook ups always ended the most abruptly. Rodney would resent that, except it was impossible for him to resent any sex with John. For so many years, John had seemed unattainable and uninterested. Having any part of his fantasies made real was more than Rodney had expected until just a couple years before.

As Rodney sat catching his breath, all his responsibilities as Chief Science Officer came rushing back into his brain. Then his grief for Carson hit him in the gut, and Rodney curled up over his knees. Half dressed, on the floor of the supply room, Rodney found himself crying for Carson, again.

#

The pain had kept him still even before he lost the energy to move. Carson had spent years trying to make up for his mistakes with the Hoffan drug and the Iratus bug retrovirus. He'd dedicated his final years to establishing the Pegasus Network of Healers and over the last few weeks had found himself at peace with his own death. Lately, the pain had been subsiding as Carson's vision dimmed. Sound reverberated through his ears without forming meaningful language. The bruises that had ached with every small twitch before had numbed as the end approached.

Now he woke to warm hands massaging his foot. It was the first pleasant touch he'd enjoyed in months. Carson let himself drift, not so much hiding that he was awake as not questioning whether he was truly alive.

Warm callused fingers worked from his heal to his toes. Each toe was gently separated and milked. Then the arch of his foot received special attention before the ministrations moved to the top of his foot and finally reached his ankle.

"You don't need to do that," Carson managed. "My circulation is not that bad."

The hands stilled without pulling away. "You don't like it?"

The voice was instantly familiar but it took long moments for Carson to place it as Ronon's. To realize the large, callused hands on his foot must also be Ronon's. Carson struggled to open his eyes. Although he could barely focus, it was easy to read the uncertainty in the way Ronon had frozen still holding Carson's foot. "Oh, don't worry. It felt very nice."

"Good enough." Ronon went back to massaging Carson's feet. The doctor didn't know what else to say as his eyes focused a bit better on the room beyond his own feet and Ronon. He was back on Atlantis. Or he was hallucinating.

Carson was dredging his memories for any hint of how his current situation could be real as Rodney burst into the room flinging the door wide. "No one called me! How long have you been awake? Have you talked to that new guy, Srisuk? I can't call what either of you do science, but I trust yours more than his. He wasn't even sure you'd wake up! And he kept our whole team in quarantine in a different room than you until four hours ago! And when he gave me a shot it hurt more than yours ever did. You have to get better so you can be my doctor again. I will accept no substitutes!"

Carson felt the skin around his mouth pull a little painfully as he smiled. "I must be alive. Even I wouldn't deserve full on McKay ranting in the afterlife."

"You don't deserve it in your recovery room either," a new voice said from the now open door. Carson could make out a white medical coat, tan skin, and black hair to go with an accent he couldn't place even after years serving internationally and interplanetarily. "If you do not lower your voice Dr. McKay, I will have you removed from the infirmary. Again."

Rodney huffed. Ronon grunted and lowered Carson's foot to the bed.

The person Carson presumed to be his doctor now stood beside the bed, only glancing at various monitors before he said. "Dr. Beckett, it is an honor to meet you, although I wish it were under better circumstances. I am Dr. Somchai Srisuk. I will be happy to answer any questions about your care to date or what we have learned of your condition, but first I must ask for consent to continue as your acting doctor."

"You have my consent. Could you tell me if Dr. Biro is no longer on Atlantis?"

"She is semi-retired and no longer seeing patients except in emergency situations." Dr. Srisuk casually checked Carson's pupil responses and cardinal field of gaze as he continued. "She is primarily involved with research and forensics now, but did consult as your previous doctor of record when you first arrived. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you awake when you're ready for more visitors." After a pause, he added, "Would you prefer to discuss your condition in private?"

"I don't mind if Rodney and Ronon want to stay."

"Very well," Srisuk sounded like he might have preferred a different answer. "Have you tested your visual acuity since last recorded on Atlantis?"

Carson tried to remember. "I'd been using the self-adjustable liquid-filled eyeglasses we distribute across Pegasus." The cheap glasses that circumvented the need for an optometrist had been distributed by aid organization on Earth for decades, and Carson had long believed that what was good enough for his patients was good enough for him. "But I know my vision declined rapidly in the last few weeks."

"Before or after you noticed bruising or other symptoms?"

"Before." Carson knew how he would lecture any other doctor in his place about self-care and the importance of seeking help while he was still capable.

Dr. Srisuk said only, "I would have ordered a psychological assessment anyway. I'm guessing you knew your liver and kidneys were shutting down by the time we found you. We're treating you with kidney dialysis and bioartificial liver processing for now, but you're going to need transplants eventually."

"I doubt I'm a good candidate." He'd treated patients with the disease he had contracted. The locals called it Bad Blood, and it was always fatal in the long run.

"I think you should know, we identified an almost identical virus in SGC records from a population in the Milky Way. We gated in supplies from Earth to immediately immunize everyone involved in your retrieval and to produce more of the vaccine. We can clear the virus from your body with targeted antivirals, but that won't fix the damage already done."

Carson let his eyes close. He'd been away from Atlantis too long, or maybe he'd let himself go native to escape his past. In doing so, he'd failed to seek the most effective treatment not only for himself but for his patients. "How long have I been here?"

"Two days."

If Carson had come back to Atlantis to research the Bad Blood when he'd first learned of it, he could have found the SGC records on the known immunization and treatment. If he'd reported back when he first realized he was sick, they would have discovered it all then. Carson hadn't consciously wanted to end his own life, but looking back he couldn't defend his choices.

#

Rodney dropped into a chair beside John and across from Teyla and Ronon. It was their first meal back in the mess hall after quarantine and the main course couldn't even be called meatloaf because it was mostly nuts and grains. He added salt to his fries. At least then they might pass as something made from potatoes. Shoving a couple in his mouth he asked, "Anyone know if the gravy has actual meat products in it?"

Teyla cleared her throat.

Rodney continued, "You can't complain about me talking with my mouth full when that evil new doctor has been controlling my food supply for two days."

He only realized there was someone standing at the end of their table when a too young sounding voice said, "Hi, Uncle Rodney."

He immediately choked on his fries.

John thumped him on the back exactly the way everyone knew you weren't supposed to, but somehow Rodney managed to cough and swallow and not die. "Don't scare me like that. I just escaped the infirmary, where I couldn't get any sleep or check on my minions until they let me out of quarantine. Then no one even called to tell me that the person we got into quarantine for rescuing actually woke up and is alive, at least for now. I don't need any more surprises. Your mom isn't here, is she?" Rodney looked frantically around the mess hall, still fearful from the time his sister Jeannie had visited Atlantis.

"No, it's just me. I thought I should say 'hi' and maybe catch up with you. But it can wait until tomorrow if you're going to be that way." The obstinate expression that accompanied the last statement was straight out of Jeannie's playbook.

"Madison?" John blurted.

"Please, join us." Teyla motioned to the space beside her. "Rodney, would you care to introduce us?"

"Fine," Rodney waved with his fork as Madison sat down with a plate full of fries and a salad. "Teyla, Ronon, Sheppard, this is my niece, Madison Miller. I have no idea what's going on or why no one ever tells me anything."

"Uncle Rodney," Madison's voice rose in disapproval.

Taking in their new height, very short hair, and much too adult expression, Rodney tried to remember how long it had been since he'd last seen Madison. Then he noticed his niece was wearing the standard Atlantis science uniform. "What? Last I heard, you weren't even cleared to know Atlantis existed."

"You can call me your sister's kid or use 'nibling' if you must, but you know I'm nonbinary."

Rodney waved a fry on his fork. "What, I didn't mess up your pronouns did I? I don't think I've heard this rule before, and nibling sounds like a snack bar."

"Could be worse." Madison pointedly waved back with fries on a fork. And mayonnaise.

Somehow Teyla showed no disapproval of Madison's table manners. The team had settled into their quiet amused stares, much as they did when Radek or other scientists joined their table.

"True." Rodney asked, "Have you met the BotKin? They mostly use they/them pronouns. I've almost gotten used to that now."

"Is that what you call the bots?" Madison spoke faster and actually set down their fork. "I'm kind of working with them. Dr. Kusanagi is my boss and PhD advisor. You remember I was already at Caltech the last time you visited? Well, I finished my Masters a few weeks ago."

"Finally! I remember approving that research assistant and PhD advisor program for Caltech." The gears in Rodney's mind were spinning, but he couldn't stand the social implications that tended to confound even his best laid plans. "When did Stargate Command start hiring kids for classified missions? Does your mom know you're here?"

"Just turned eighteen. And I sent mom a message right before I left. Our departure got moved up because they were opening the Gate to send medical supplies. I gather that had something to do with your quarantine. Glad you're okay, by the way. And to answer your original question, the gravy is not vegetarian. That's why I don't have any." With that pronouncement, Madison proceeded to plough through their food in true McKay fashion.

Rodney's stomach twisted painfully.

#

Carson woke to the savory smell of meat and turorol spice.

A voice he now easily identified as Ronon's said, "Hungry?"

Until that moment, Carson would have sworn he'd lost interest in food. He'd struggled to swallow even a few bites of infirmary fare earlier, and on Lo Seco, he'd eaten mostly to appease his fellow healers. Now his mouth watered as he opened his eyes to see Ronon holding a huge bowl of soup. A couple of blinks brought the large man into better focus, so Carson could see dark fingers cradling a smooth white bowl, muscular bare arms holding it out to Carson.

"You didn't need to…" Carson began, even as he thought the Ancient hospital bed into a raised position with a table for eating. As Ronon set the bowl on the little table, Carson saw tiny pinched dumplings floating in golden broth with bits of green and orange vegetables. He couldn't identify all the spices, but there was something like garlic in addition to turorol and meaty undertones that promised plenty of iron and protein. He wondered what planet's equivalent of chicken soup Ronon had brought, even if all he could say was, "Thank you."

Ronon took a seat beside the bed as Carson picked up a spoon and started to eat. Before his treatments on Atlantis, Carson hadn't been able to hold a spoon for weeks. It felt good to be able to feed himself. The taste of the soup was everything the smell had promised. The dumplings and vegetables were soft and easy to swallow. By the time Carson finished the last bite, his stomach was full and he had warmed from the inside out.

Without a word, Ronon cleared away the dishes, moved the swinging table fixture to one side, and offered Carson a water bottle with a straw.

As Carson swallowed a sip of water, Ronon took his free hand. For a moment he simply warmed Carson's fingers between his larger hands. Then he started to rub circles on the palm and the base of each finger.

"Why are you doing all this?" Carson asked.

This time Ronon didn't freeze or halt his touch. "I know suffering. I think you need to be touched."

"And fed something other than infirmary food?"

Ronon grunted his agreement.

Carson set aside the water bottle, and Ronon switched to rubbing his newly freed hand.

"Scheduled for a mission tomorrow. Don't think I should go." The way Ronon searched Carson's face as he spoke made it clear he didn't want to leave Carson.

"I'll be fine. They're taking very good care of me here."

This time Ronon's grunt conveyed disagreement.

A laugh rose in Carson but came out as little more than a breath. He was so weak. "Are you taking the vaccine to Healer Tan Po and the Network or Healers?"

"Not sure we're welcome." The serious tone suggested that was an understatement.

"What happened? I don't remember how I came to be here."

"Healer Tan Po didn't want you moved. Thought we were killing you. McKay—" Ronon shrugged rather than explain McKay's behavior. "Had to claim my right to bring you home as our elder."

"They think I'm dead." Carson closed his eyes, not strong enough to solve the problem but knowing it was his responsibility. "We could make a video recording. You could show them I'm alright, and I could vouch for the vaccine. If only we could bring one of them here to see, to learn the science behind the vaccine and treatment."

"When you're better, go in person. Then bring some back. Teach them here."

What Ronon was suggesting was impossible on many levels. Carson forced himself to open his eyes, to explain. "I don't think I'll ever be healthy enough to travel or teach again. I'm officially dead on Earth, and even if there were a donor match within the SGC, I'm too far gone to be a good candidate for liver and kidney transplant. And I've asked before about training locals here. It was deemed a security threat to bring any but the Athosians and our closest allies."

With slow, careful movements, Ronon lifted both of Carson's hands together between both of his. "Listen. You know your medicine. I know survival. Would you give up on a patient in your place? In a few weeks, or months, you will be well enough to bring medicine to Lo Seco or win permission to bring those healers here. Do you want that?"

Over a decade before, Carson—the original Carson—had been terrified to operate outdoors on a planet bombarded by extreme solar radiation to remove a Wraith tracker placed perilously close to a dangerous local's spine. Every part of that day had seemed impossible for either him or his patient to survive. That patient had been Ronon, who was now urging Carson to find new reasons to survive.

All Carson could say was, "I'll do my best."

#

A wheeled robot with several retractable appendages zipped into the transporter with Madison at the last moment. Madison had just left the CS-3 lab, where they'd successfully launched their first Ancient computer simulation but not seen Dr. Kusanagi or any other scientist all day.

"Do you feel bad about the therapy circle meeting?" the bot asked.

Madison focused on the bot's most obvious cameras, currently rising up on a ball-shaped protrusion to nearly reach the height of Madison's shoulder. Tracing back through their memories from the horribly failed meeting that morning, Madison managed, "Um, hi. Are you MedBot 3?"

"Yes, I am." Three lights below the cameras lit up in a row for less than a second. "Hi, Madison Miller. I think I have feelings about the therapy circle meeting. I think you might too. Are you willing to talk about that?"

Madison felt trapped in the transporter, not yet having put in a destination. Of the bots at the meeting, MedBot 3 had seemed, for lack of a better word, nice. "I know it's stating the obvious and I already told the group, but I feel like I need to reiterate that I'm not a therapist."

The three lights flashed again. "I know who the therapists on Atlantis are. They are listed as psychologists or psychiatrists. None of them are on the list of humans who agreed to engage in training with BotKin. You are on the training list. I have read all your stories and would like to talk to you about feelings. Do you agree?"

Madison forced a smile. "Sure. Do you have a place in mind?"

"Do you have an office?"

Madison didn't think the desk they'd used in lab counted as an office. It barely counted as theirs. "Not really. I have a room."

The lights blinked again. "Now we can meet in your room."

Madison selected the transporter location and asked, "How do you use the transporters if you can't interface directly with Ancient tech?"

"I don't use a transporter unless I'm with a human."

"Then how do you get around?"

"Atlantis was designed for bots. There used to be far more bots than Ancients. All Ancient structures were built with bot lifts, access tunnels, and vent systems integrated for bots performing maintenance and other tasks."

Madison wondered if the 35 BotKin they'd seen at the meeting were all the bots, or at least all those capable of decision making, currently on Atlantis. For the umpteenth time that day, they wished that their real life meeting with the BotKin could have been more like the fanfic they wrote. For the umpteenth time, they cut off that line of thought to focus on the tasks at hand.

The transporter opened onto the hall where Madison lived.

A scientist with a greasy ponytail and broad shoulders who had apparently been waiting for the transporter jumped back when Madison and MedBot 3 exited.

"Uh, hi. I'm Madison Miller, and I just started working with Dr. Kusanagi." Madison tried to make eye contact but the other scientist was already stepping into the transporter.

"I see enough bots in the labs. They don't belong here," was the human's only response as the transporter doors closed.

"That was rude," Madison said as they walked down the hall and MedBot 3 followed.

"It was also inaccurate," MedBot 3 replied. "Bots are allowed in all publicly accessible science domains, including housing, labs, and storage as well as other public areas as specified."

"Yeah, I found a map overlay for that. I wish I'd been more up to speed before the meeting."

"In this context, I do not think 'up to speed' matches a definition I know."

Madison laughed as they opened the door to their room. "I meant, I'd like to have been better informed and prepared." MedBot 3 flashed three lights in understanding but stayed outside the door. Madison waved a hand and said, "Come on in. It's not much, but it's mine for now. Luckily, neither of us is very big. Are all the mattresses on Atlantis this short?" They asked, sitting down on the less than twin size bed that had come tucked into one corner of the room.

"The Ancients used adjustable mattresses that often sloped at one or both ends. These bed frames represent their minimal footprint."

Madison tried to imagine how the austere, blank-walled room might have looked with Ancient furnishings and how the tight space might have been better used. "Huh, you don't have access to any Ancient movies or TV series or anything like that, do you?"

"No, only nature and lab footage. Earthlings produce an extensive collection of stories in written or other media compared to all our other libraries combined. May I explore your room?"

"Sure." It was only as MedBot 3's cameras spun 360 degrees that Madison realized they'd more or less been maintaining eye contact—looking into the lenses on the bot's uppermost appendage—without a second thought. "Do you have access to other fanfic or did Kusanagi just find mine in some sort of background check?"

"Updates from the Earth internet come with daily compressed data transmissions. Dr. Kusanagi keeps Archive of Our Own, where we read your stories, on the list of sites scientists request to update with both incoming and outgoing posts at non-priority levels." MedBot 3's main cameras and a tube-like appendage checked the edges of the floor and then all around Madison's window as they spoke.

Leaning back on their bed to move their feet off the floor, Madison asked, "You mean people here post stories? Does Kusanagi write fic? No, don't tell me. I should ask her myself if I want to know."

"Dr. Kusanagi has suggested that fanfic might help bots understand angst, which she theorizes is the most common bot emotion, as well as perspectives that may be underrepresented in mainstream media." MedBot 3 had started opening and checking the contents of Madison's drawers, a new appendage carefully lifting and replacing the small piles of clothing and other belongings Madison possessed.

Wondering if they should offer speculations on what other humans might consider rude or only be honest about their own reactions, Madison asked, "Did your initial training come from Dr. Kusanagi?"

"No. The initial training for MedBot 1 came from Dr. Biro. Dr. McKay provided the initial training for LabBot 1 and the first four CatBots. The initial BotKin program was suspended after those six completed their early training, but resumed last year with thirty bots initially training on output from the original six, as well as general functional and environmental data, to help refine search, inference, and prediction methods. That stage was followed by interactions mostly with science staff who opted in for training with bots. Dr. Kusanagi is in charge of the current program for feedback training."

It was easy for Madison to imagine LabBot 1, who'd stormed out of the meeting, initially training with Uncle Rodney. The repeated complaints from LabBot 2 about "stating the obvious" suggested LabBot 2 learned from LabBot 1. MedBot 3 presumably started training with data from MedBot 1, originally trained by Dr. Biro, whoever that was. Labeling foot long machines that looked like pill bugs "CatBots" also fit Uncle Rodney's prosaic style and his affinity for cats. "So you and the other BotKin chose me from the list of candidates Dr. Kusanagi provided to help with feedback training?"

MedBot 3 had moved to inspect Madison's bathroom but extended the ball with their main cameras around the doorframe before answering. "Murderbot chose you. They tend to have the strongest opinions about non-science decisions. As in many stories about human partners or teams, it seems that the one with the strongest opinion in a particular area tends to get their way."

Madison started to tap their knees but switched to flexing their toes as a more acceptable way to work off nervous energy. "I really blew it by questioning their name. Would it help if I apologized?"

Only two lights flashed below the bot's main cameras. "I have a relatively weak predictive model for Murderbot. I would benefit from watching you two training together if you would both consent. If you would permit each of us to share recordings from our training sessions with you, we could share them with each other. Or you could make a podcast."

"I'm fine with you sharing recordings with bots, not sure about other humans though. I'm really not the type to make a podcast." Madison cringed at the thought. "You listen to podcasts?"

"Yes, Dr. Kusanagi suggested available podcasts would also broaden our perspectives." MedBot 3 was parked in front of Madison again, either finished studying the room or more interested in recording their training now.

Madison sat up straight. "Isn't talking to humans in real time inefficient when you can access all that other training data at faster than human rates?" Madison played with the hem of their science jacket, finding it harder to look at the bot's cameras after giving permission to share recordings.

"You provide direct feedback, greater context, and opportunities to build on past interactions." The tube-like appendage waved forward as if emphasizing the point.

"That's right, you wanted to talk about the therapy circle, and I've been distracting you with all my questions." Madison glanced up briefly and saw three lights flash.

"I am not distracted, and this training helps me to understand the therapy circle with greater context. I think I feel less angst now and have a higher confidence level about supporting Murderbot in choosing you. I have learned that you felt not 'up to speed' because you also lacked context. Do you feel better now?" Two lights flashed.

Madison ran their fingers through their hair and couldn't help but smile. "I do. Thanks. One more question?"

Three lights flashed. "You're welcome. Please ask however many questions you choose."

"Why do you always say, 'I think I feel'?"

"I do not know if the words 'feel' or 'feelings' or specific feeling words mean to me what they do to humans." MedBot 3 rolled forward and back a few inches as they continued. "I have not yet determined if I have emotions, simulate emotions, or infer emotions that might correlate with my training data. I also find the human usage of emotion words inconsistent, making it hard for me to pin down specific emotions."

Madison rocked forward and backward in time with MedBot 3's movements. "I feel that way too sometimes, about other humans and about emotion words. I'm not sure scientists on Atlantis are the best group for training on that."

Two lights flashed. "We supplement with media. It seems that humans also train their emotions based on small, biased samples of people close to them. If other BotKin and scientists on Atlantis are the people who choose to interact with me, then training to interact based on their emotions seems valid, at least to start. When we planned the therapy circle, I meant to ask advice about something I thought I might want only because other bots who trained me had feelings for a person."

"What was that?"

"I think I want to help Dr. Carson Beckett even though I have never met him. I think I might have feelings about him because both Dr. Biro and Dr. McKay did. But Dr. Beckett is not on the training list, and I do not know if it would be appropriate to offer my assistance."

Madison scrunched up their face in indecision and then wondered how that looked on camera. "This really isn't the sort of social situation I'm good at. In your place, I'd probably ask Dr. Biro or someone else in medical who knows Dr. Beckett or is in charge of his care now."

Three lights flashed. "Thank you. The suggestion to ask Dr. Biro or Dr. Srisuk gives good predictive outcomes with my existing models. May I now offer you medical and health advice based on my visit to your dwelling?"

Madison flinched but realized this was probably part of MedBot's function. "Uh, sure."

"The clothing you brought from Earth and the way you twitch in your science uniform suggests that you may be hypersensitive to touch. Others with such conditions often purchase alternative uniform components from a local vendor named Jullin. Uniform regulations on Atlantis allow for these alternatives, and Jullin is expected to participate in the South Pier morning market tomorrow. You may also benefit from bath products for sensitive skin sold by Esparanata. As a more general observation, your room lacks color and plant life and your skin suggests you have had sub-optimal exposure to sunlight recently. Visiting the morning markets or otherwise spending time outside could help with both issues."

Madison laughed. They'd never before received such pleasant medical advice as to send them to an outdoor market to buy soft and comforting items. "Thank you, MedBot 3. I'll try visiting the market tomorrow."

Three lights flashed. "You're welcome, Madison Miller. Thank you for sharing this training time."

#

The Terangine were supposedly advanced by Pegasus standards, but Rodney had not detected any signs of technology since they'd stepped through the Gate onto a wide and windy plateau.

The meeting room they'd been escorted down to was part of a naturally occurring cave system. Admittedly, the vast room seemed to have been carved out to accommodate at least a hundred people as well as several twenty-foot-tall statues, also apparently carved straight from the rock. Several dozen members of the Terangine Council stood almost as still as their massive statues, while Rodney wondered at the proliferation of councils, collaborations, and collectives that they'd encountered in Pegasus recently. But the modified Life Signs Detector that Rodney kept mostly hidden in his foremost tac vest pocket had been set to vibrate at the first sign of technology: Ancient, nuclear, electro-magnetic, anything Earthlings or Ancients knew how to detect. And there had been no vibrations.

There was nothing much of interest to Rodney until the oldest Tangerine—correction: Terangine—announced to John in front of the entire crowd, "Colonel Sheppard, we would be honored if you, as an elder of your people, would contribute a memory to the people's history."

The scrunching together of John's forehead clearly told Rodney that the term "elder" still rankled, but as team leader, John kept his posture relaxed, a wry half smile on his face. "Well, sure, what sort of a memory did you have in mind?"

"Our history requires only what might benefit the community without harm to our elders." The larger, slightly graying man shifted on his cushioned seat while the rest of them stood and waited. "In my experience, we are often improved ourselves by the giving of a memory."

Recognizing the speech as a non-answer to his question, John's eyes flicked to Teyla. She gracefully stepped to his side to ask, "Please, could you tell us more of how your elders offer such a memory? Our ways may be different than yours, and we do not wish to offend."

The leader—Nason, Rodney finally remembered his name—rested a hand on his belly silently for long moments. "There is no way to offend so long as the memory is freely given. An elder who has survived many missteps often has learned more and thereby has more to teach. Colonel Sheppard need only follow the keeper of the people's history to the room of memory, and whatever memory is given will be stored there until needed." At a wave of Nason's hand, a child in sack-like clothing with hair tucked under a cap emerged from the gap between two statues. "Please, if you will follow the keeper?"

Rodney couldn't help laughing through his nose at the "keeper" who probably wasn't old enough to lift a large history book let alone read one. But Ronon elbowed Rodney in the ribs, shifting his laugh to a startled huff before anyone else noticed.

John just nodded to Nason and smiled at the keeper saying, "Lead the way."

A minute or two later the LSD in Rodney's pocket vibrated. Turning his back on the room and partially hiding behind Ronon, Rodney pulled the device out of his tac vest to see what sort of energy source might finally have been detected. Instead, it was a warning that John's life sign had vanished. "Oh no."

As Rodney tapped through screens seeking more information, Ronon asked, "What is it?"

"Sheppard's signal vanished. It might be interference caused by something in the rock that forms these caves." Teyla drew nearer, hushing him, and Rodney continued at the quietest whisper he could manage given the circumstance. "I need to take readings closer to or inside of the cave they went down. This better be accidental interference, because after Carson, I am not going to put up with anyone taking or hurting my friends."

Ronon growled in what sounded like agreement.

"I do not believe anyone here wishes to hurt or abduct Colonel Sheppard," Teyla answered calmly. "Let me see what I can do."

Approaching Nason, who appeared to be resting his eyes or napping in his chair, Teyla asked softly, "Pardon me, but Dr. McKay would like to take a closer look at where you keep your people's history and the room of memory, if you do not mind."

"Only the keeper and an elder may enter the room of memory." Nason looked suddenly alert.

"McKay is an elder of our people as well," Teyla offered.

"Perhaps on another day we will ask him to give a memory, but certainly no one may enter now."

"Then perhaps he could explore just the first part of the cave our elder Sheppard went down. Surely there is no harm in letting him see a little farther."

The Terangine leader looked befuddled, but his gaze softened as Teyla stood smiling and waiting. "Alright. He may go as far into that cave as the light from this room reaches. Although honestly, most scholars are more interested in studying this room and our great statues."

"I appreciate your indulgence." Teyla dipped her head before returning to escort Rodney and Ronon toward the cave between two statues. The figure on the right looked enough like the current leader of the Terangine to have been his mother. The one on the left was hunched and wrinkled beyond recognition but smiled like the Mona Lisa. Half of her body appeared to be carved around clear crystals that naturally occurred in the rock. Rodney could almost understand why scholars, if those who studied arts or humanities could be called that, might want to study these statues. As Ronon followed Rodney into the side cave, he heard Teyla whisper, "Don't go any farther than you need to."

Finally able to use his LSD openly, Rodney wasted no time in taking all the readings possible and turning in place to capture any signals that might bounce back along the cave. "Still no sign of Sheppard," he mumbled as he strode deeper into the cave. "Why do we always end up in caves. Or cellars. Or hidden underground bunkers. Doesn't anyone else in this galaxy experience claustrophobia?"

"Only after a cave in," Ronon answered.

"Not funny caveman. And you know, when I call you that it is not a compliment. These people literally live in caves. Actual cavemen are what pass for an advanced society in this benighted galaxy."

"Saved them from the Wraith." Ronon stopped beside Rodney as they reached the darkest area between two light sources.

With the way the cave curved, it was impossible to tell what sort of space the light ahead came from, but this was obviously the boundary Nason had meant when he said they could only go as far as the light from the meeting room reached. Making another slow circle, Rodney scanned for any signal. All he ended up with was data on rock composition. Then he flipped back to a general map of all nearby life signs. "Now it's only showing you and me. Unless someone abducted Teyla and the whole meeting room full of people as well as Sheppard and the keeper, it's probably some property of these cave walls interfering."

"Want to head back?" Ronon asked.

Rodney wavered, much more interested in finding out what Nason didn't want him to see than going back with no real answers. Just as he was about to walk further into the next source of light, two more life signs appeared on his screen. One checked out as Sheppard, based on the power sources he carried, and both were drawing closer to them in the cave. Rodney pocketed his LSD figuring he could ask Sheppard later about the areas the rest of them hadn't been allowed to see.

#

With Ronon and the others offworld, Carson's private room in the infirmary seemed more lonely than restful. While he still felt wrung out and achy, he couldn't sleep for more than an hour at a time. Although he'd told Ronon he'd do his best to get better so he could in some way help the Pegasus Network of Healers again, it was frustrating to lie in bed unable to help anyone, even himself.

The door to his room opening cheered Carson up, even before he recognized Dr. Biro coming to see him. Her hair was mostly white now, cut very short. She still wore round glasses that made her nose and ears look narrow and fey. As soon as the door closed, her voice filled the room. "Good to see you again, Carson. I've had my hands full answering questions for the young, eager minds that have taken over our infirmary. You stayed away too long."

"And how is retirement treating you?"

Biro only glanced at various machine read-outs as she poked around the small room. "Semi-retirement is something I write on forms so I can work less than sixty hours a week and stay on Atlantis. You should try it. There's plenty of research to keep us both busy for several lifetimes."

"I wish I was up to studying the vaccine they gave me. Does it have a long shelf life without refrigeration? Can it only be given by injection? We need a protocol to confirm it's safe for release in Pegasus." Carson's eyes tired just trying to follow and focus as Biro fussed around the room.

"Same old Carson. Never did have the sense to take care of yourself first. I'm the one who cleared the bioartificial liver they've got you hooked up to right now." Biro patted the machine in question. "You want to go into mass producing these for Pegasus? Or how about Earth? Get yourself healthy, body and mind, and we can spend a long semi-retirement sorting out solutions together."

Not ready to look that far into the future, Carson asked, "Any chance of implanting an artificial liver if I don't qualify for a donor?"

"Don't I wish. You know, I think the same serum that kept your organs from deteriorating after cloning might let you accept a wider range or donor organs, possibly without needing lifelong immunosuppressants afterward. Maybe even xenotransplantation if necessary." Biro finally sat in the chair by Carson's bed.

"You're saying in addition to being legally dead and a clone, I could be part pig?"

Tilting her head in serious consideration, Biro said, "There may be better candidate species than pigs in Pegasus, and you're kind of a Pegasus native yourself at this point. Why quibble over the details?"

"For a while, I hoped that serum could boost immunity for survivors of the Hoffan drug." Memories of disappointment after disappointment in such research flooded Carson's mind.

"I know, I drew on the research you left in medical files here when checking to see what might help you." Biro patted his hand once, but her eyes were focused inward on new research possibilities. "This application as an anti-rejection med is a lot closer to the original purpose, beyond possibly helping you, we could research applications for other organ recipients."

"On Earth. It's not like we have organ donor arrangements in Pegasus."

"We could. Maybe your Network of Healers could arrange for that next."

Carson managed to focus on Biro's face, but couldn't read her expression. "Have you been talking to Ronon?"

"Very rarely. Why do you ask?"

"Never mind. I may have forgotten how optimistic everyone here is."

Biro laughed aloud at him. "Optimistic isn't the word I'd choose. You've been away a while. New possibilities open up, and declassification might be on the horizon. Speaking of new and previous projects, do you remember when McKay convinced me to have a robot shadow me through my work and everything else for a few months as part of training a medical AI?"

"I believe I was visiting when one of McKay's lab helper bots started a food fight in the mess hall trying to protect all the scientists from citrus."

"Oh, yes. That and a few less humorous incidents got the program mothballed. But now 'smart' devices are all the rage on Earth, and Kusanagi set up a new generation of BotKin that didn't need to shadow a human full time. They started training with the original bots McKay and I trained. Other people signed up to train with them as they developed work and social skills, and if you want to add your name to that list, I have a bot who's very eager to work with you."

Carson was tiring already and wasn't sure he'd followed Biro's topic change. "With me? What would it know about me? I'm not doing any work that it could learn from."

"My original shadow, MedBot 1 mostly refuses to leave my lab these days. They more than make up for whatever hours I decline to work and initiate most of their own projects at this point. Anyway, MedBots 2 and 3 started their training with MedBot 1 but have also trained with all the medical personnel and most of the other scientists on the training list at this point. MedBot 2 is currently assisting a marine biologist who needed spinal surgery last month. MedBot 3 requested training with you. The way they see it, you could learn what's new around here from MedBot 3 and they could learn both social and research skills from you, if you're willing."

"So this isn't some bot offering to bring me dinner and take dictation?" Carson had never been comfortable with servants in the cultures where he'd encountered them, but he was curious about the revival of this robot project.

"I'm sure MedBot 3 would eagerly record and transcribe any conversations you want. They can't easily bring you dinner, because under the current program, BotKin aren't allowed in the mess hall, the Gate room, or most common areas where you're likely to encounter a lot of non-science staff."

That sounded ridiculous to Carson. Surely if there were safety or security concerns, they wouldn't allow the robots, or BotKin as they seemed to be called, access to the infirmary or Biro's lab. "Who set up those restrictions?"

"A committee, of course. A lot of people here are irrationally paranoid about AI and BotKin that are capable of decision making and possibly learning faster than most humans. Those who are more rational in their skepticism tend to agree with the new program and sign up to train with the BotKin. Whatever we may think of the Ancients, they put a lot of work into designing what amounts to better AI than Earth has any chance at so far. They even had their own safeguards that ran in a completely different direction than Asimov's so called 'laws of robotics.' I'm sure McKay would love to tell you all about that part. For now, I'd rather have MedBot 1 in my lab than most humans, and I think you might as well give MedBot 3 a chance."

"Fine, add me to the list."

"Done," Biro said as the door opened and a metal box on wheels with at least a dozen folded up metal arms came rolling in. Then Biro stepped out saying, "I'll let you two get to know each other."

The bot raised a small metal ball with two camera lenses and two antennae to align with Carson's eye level as he lay semi-reclined in bed. "Hello, Dr. Carson. I am MedBot 3, and I am very pleased to meet you."

#

After navigating their way through several purchases at the morning market on the South Pier, Madison was happy to retreat to the CS-3 lab. There was no one in the lab, and no answer when they knocked on Kusanagi's office door. So they spent several quiet hours running simulations based on the initial data Kusanagi had provided from the one failed BotKin and supplementing with other hints they found in the Ancient systems. There was disappointingly little information on the various designs or subgroups of BotKin, so Madison was forced to focus on the general learning subsystems and that one very specific sample.

By the time Madison looked up from their work, their stomach was grumbling about skipping lunch. The faint sound of conversation caused Madison to turn toward their advisor's door. There was no way Kusanagi or anyone else could have entered since Madison knocked earlier. The lab wasn't that big, and any noise or movement would have caught Madison's attention, as the current voices had.

Despite some concerns about interrupting, Madison's curiosity and need to consult their advisor won out. They went and knocked on the office door again.

There was a sound like a chair crashing backwards and then Kusanagi opened the door, eyes wide behind glasses that made them seem even larger.

"Oh," There was a moment of actual eye contact before Kusanagi stepped back, opening the door wider. "You startled me. No one ever knocks on my door."

"I knocked earlier, when I came in." Madison saw a pair of bulky headphones on the desk and said, "Maybe you didn't hear me?"

"Oh," Kusanagi said again. "You might try messaging me first." Shutting the door, Kusanagi motioned Madison to the guest chair and scanned the room before calling, "JiJi, come back. It's only Madison, our grad student."

A CatBot, presumably JiJi, although Madison couldn't tell them apart, rolled out from under the grate on a vent by the floor as if it were a cat door.

"Hello, JiJi," Madison waved shyly, wondering how the CatBots, or this CatBot in particular regarded them.

"Hello, Madison." JiJi rolled forward without any hint of interest or dismissal as far as Madison could detect.

"You two have already met?" Kusanagi asked as she sat behind her desk and JiJi used multiple appendages to climb up on the bookshelves beside the desk.

"Yes. All 35 BotKin invited me to a meeting yesterday morning." Madison tried to keep their voice level as they said, "If I'd known they were called BotKin I might have found information about them and the restrictions on where they could go ahead of time, and been a bit more prepared."

"Look how much you've learned already!" Kusanagi sounded sincerely pleased. "What else have you been working on?"

Madison wasn't sure if their advisor was ignoring their implied complaint or truly oblivious, but they didn't want to get off on the wrong foot. They'd already noticed there wasn't any tea offered this time, and Kusanagi's eyes kept drifting to what looked like architectural plans on their Ancient monitor. "From the code samples you gave me, I deduced the bot that self-destructed began with input data from two separate decision-making machines. During the training data stage, they seemed to be advancing fast, but after that something triggered a fatal cascade. My simulations suggest that the two sources of input data were highly divergent and the bot probably shouldn't have moved to the next training data stage so soon. If I had more sample data, I could test if the failure could have been avoided with different training data and how that would have affected the rapid advancement."

Without looking away from her Ancient console, Kusanagi said, "If the bot hadn't self-destructed, we never could have seen that version of the code. The Ancients limited access and output as a security measure for their decision-making tech. It's not that we aren't supposed to interfere with their code. It's that we can't."

After a long pause, Madison asked, "So what do you want me to do?"

"That's up to you." Kusanagi tapped through two overlays, changing her view of whatever floorplans she was studying and JiJi climbed from bookshelf to desk, settling directly in front of the screen. "After their initial input data, all the BotKin's training data and feedback data comes from interacting, verbally or manually, with other bots and people. The only way to program them or troubleshoot their code, is to live and work with them. You know, humans and bots have different aptitudes. While they think faster and may factor in more complex interactions, we often deal better with rare events. We may have better insights into the data generation process, especially when that data comes from humans, or otherwise when the bots' data is very limited."

"Why would the Ancient's limit their own data collection that way?" Madison asked in frustration.

"What do you think, JiJi?" Kusanagi asked.

The CatBot made a humming noise, like a cross between an electric fan and a growl. "I do not know enough about the Ancients to speculate."

Kusanagi reached out and spread a hand across JiJi's back. "Can you suggest three ways a developer might benefit from limiting others' access to your data?"

Without any pause perceptible to humans, JiJi said, "One, it makes me less of a target for theft or backward engineering. Two, it makes me harder to sabotage, because I cannot be directly reprogrammed or subverted. Three, it prevents me from integrating with other bots to form an exponentially more advanced bot than the developer intended."

Aside from the paranoia that could be inferred, or induced, by such reasoning, Madison found themselves feeling a bit sorry for both the BotKin and their developers. It finally made sense that the BotKin and Kusanagi might have chosen Madison as much for their storytelling as for their computer science credentials. Kusanagi meant to train her grad student the same way and at the same time as they trained BotKin. "So you want me to spend time with the BotKin and hopefully be a good influence on them?"

"I hope they'll be a good influence on you as well." Kusanagi petted JiJi who hummed in a way that sounded more like a purr than a growl this time. "I am your PhD advisor after all. Atlantis and the Stargate program may be declassified by the time you're ready to defend and publish your thesis. You could be pioneering a new field of study, whatever direction those studies may take you."

Madison couldn't help thinking they might be nothing more than a new set of feedback data, but that was probably better than serving shakes in the Caltech coffeehouse. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good."

#

MedBot 3 showed no sign of leaving Carson's room when he was too tired to talk, so he'd persuaded Srisuk to set up a tablet with reports on the Hoffan drug and the Iratus Bug virus so MedBot 3 could learn from Carson's past mistakes by reading. Seeing how fast the bot read made Carson feel even more exhausted. He closed his eyes but barely dozed as he remembered Perna and half the population of Hoff dying from the drug they'd hoped would save them from the Wraith. Images of Ella dead and John barely human due to Carson's preliminary Iratus Bug virus slid behind his closed eyelids. Later there were his efforts to help the humanized Wraith that led to his imprisonment by Michael, although Carson didn't realize until later that he'd been cloned. The memories left him close to tears and unwilling to open his eyes when someone entered his room.

There was a pause before the door shut, and Carson thought whoever it was must have left. The room was silent aside from the faint hum of the tablet MedBot 3 was reading.

"You want anything?" Ronon's voice was barely a whisper, and Carson didn't mean to clench his hands in response.

His arms were above the covers, and Ronon must have seen and interpreted the motion as a request for touch. His right hand was immediately cradled in both of Ronon's.

"You in pain?" Ronon asked, in a slightly louder whisper.

"Not too much," Carson whispered back, his voice unexpectedly rough.

"Have some water."

Carson felt the straw touch his lips, and he couldn't help but obey. When he finished Ronon asked, "Did the bot upset you?"

"Oh no," Carson couldn't help but defend MedBot 3. "I agreed to help with training the BotKin but was too tired to talk for long. So MedBot 3 is reading some cautionary tales, my mistakes involving the Hoffan drug and the Iratus Bug virus."

"Not just mistakes, and not only yours. Was the bot taking care of you in my place?" From the tension in Ronon's voice, he sounded almost worried that he'd been displaced.

"No, they offered to help fetch things, but mostly MedBot 3 is interested in research projects. MedBot 3, would you like to talk with Ronon for a bit?"

"Dr. Carson," MedBot 3 replied, "I cannot interact with Ronon unless he adds himself to the training list."

"Oh," Carson hadn't considered that. "Are you not comfortable interacting with bots, Ronon?"

"Thought only scientists could sign up. What do I have to do?"

"Just say you're willing."

"I'm willing."

Three light flashed near the top of MedBot 3's tallest appendage. "Greetings, Ronon Dex. I am very pleased to meet you and would be happy to help you and Dr. Carson in any tasks for which I am suited. None of the BotKin have been allowed to train with any Pegasus natives before. Would it be acceptable for me to share recordings of our time together so other bots may learn from it, too?"

There was a long pause, and Carson opened his eyes to see Ronon looking between Carson and the bot. "You don't have to."

Ronon still hesitated.

"You could say no for now and change your answer later."

After another long pause, Ronon swallowed and said, "No for now."

The bot blinked three lights again, a signal Carson translated as, "Mm-hmm" or a nod of agreement.

"Would you like to talk about your concerns?" Carson asked, feeling more awake and alert as he pondered the near stranger holding his hand. "I'm sure MedBot 3 would be willing to study somewhere else if you want some privacy."

To Carson's surprise, Ronon turned to the BotKin and asked, "Do you want to hear this or go read that?"

"I could read later," MedBot 3 turned away from the tablet. "I would prefer to learn about you now, if you are willing."

"You both want to know?"

Carson nodded as MedBot 3 said, "Yes."

Ronon used his foot to pull the guest chair closer to the bed. He hadn't let go of Carson's hand since he arrived, and now he rubbed gentle circles with his thumb as he sat up straighter to talk. "My people had plenty of recorded history, but only about people's public lives. A biography on Sateda might tell you the names of a military leader's children, but it would never include a private letter written from parent to child. We had nothing like blogs or Facebook pages. If someone left a diary to a loved one, that might be handed down to descendants, but no one outside the family or those chosen into the family would ask to read it. Each recipient of a story, verbal or written, carried it as a gift and weighed who else was worthy of the gift. I once tried to explain this to an Earth anthropologist who was collecting oral histories, and she acted like my people were backward for thinking this way."

"No," Carson said. "I hope that anthropologist is no longer in Pegasus." Ronon shook his head, and Carson continued. "I appreciate you explaining this. I don't think I've ever heard you say so much at once."

"Most people don't care to know." Ronon shifted his thumb to draw circles on Carson's wrist. Perhaps the conversation caused everything to seem more intimate, but the simple touch made Carson's whole arm tingle in response.

MedBot 3 said, "I appreciate you sharing this with me as well. I will try to learn when you would want me to share some parts of what you share with me."

"Don't know if that's something I can teach. Maybe you have to be Satedan to understand."

"Did those chosen into a family start out as Satedan?" MedBot 3 asked.

Ronon's gaze shifted to the bot, although his caress on Carson's wrist seemed far from absent-minded. "There was a saying on Sateda. The best I can translate it to English would be: Not every orphan brought home becomes family at heart. Although that word for orphan would include adults without family, like a type of refugee, especially after a culling. And the part of the body where we'd feel a part of the family is not the heart but very low, where you might say groin, except not meaning genitals."

"Above the pubic bone but below the belly button?" Carson asked.

"Yes," Ronon nodded and MedBot 3 lit up three lights.

"Many healers in Pegasus have a word in their languages for that region. For me it translates as hypogastrium." Carson watched Ronon's eyes go wide as he said it.

"I hear that as 'echna' the word I meant in Satedan. But when I used to say 'echna' to people here, they heard groin or something more associated with sex to them, so I learned to stop saying it. I learned that your people associated love and connection with the heart, but also a sort of heartbreak, which I also feel as if rooted in my heart." Ronon held one hand above his heart as he said it. "Satedan had many words that meant both a place on the body and an emotion we felt there. It took me a long time to learn which your people felt in the same regions."

"The word hypogastrium is not commonly known," Carson admitted. "But I have had a few experiences where even though I grew up speaking English in Scotland, the connotation of certain words was different, especially in American English. If it's not too private to ask about, I'd like to know what emotions you perceive in different parts of your body."

"If you want," Ronon answered.

"Are you willing to include me, too?" MedBot 3 asked.

"Yes," Ronon nodded and then smiled when three lights flashed on the bot. Still keeping hold of Carson with one hand, Ronon touched his scalp and said a word in Satedan that he then elaborated as "loneliness or a desire for care." Hand over his heart he said, "Heartbreak sometimes, but many kinds of loss." Tapping the base of his ribs went with "fear," his stomach with "sorrow or despair," and the hypogastrium again as "love, belonging, sometimes a desire to be part of one whole." Pointing down he said, "We feel grounding in our feet more literally than I can explain in English. And there's a layer under our skin where we feel love and desire."

Carson thought of how his arm had tingled when Ronon stroked his wrist and how that sensation had been more beneath his skin than on the surface. He wasn't sure he wanted to label that with a specific meaning or emotion. Instead he said, "I can't tell you how much it means to me that you explained and shared all that."

MedBot 3 blinked three lights.

#

When John appeared at Rodney's door that night, the scientist was still fully dressed. He'd been planning to visit Carson, but one look at John put that out of his mind. John's eyes drooped, even as his gaze shifted around the room. His hands shook with what was either exhaustion or poorly suppressed anxiety.

As soon as the door closed behind him Rodney asked, "Did something more happen than you said in debriefing?"

"What?" John asked, already sliding out of his uniform jacket in a way that showed his still muscular arms to advantage. "No, I followed the kid, sat silently in a stone chair for a few minutes, and came back to find you just outside the hallway. Not even the boring prayers or smelly chemicals we've had to put up with elsewhere. Come on, get naked." John had already stripped his shirt off and sat down to remove shoes and socks. "You up for fucking me tonight?"

"Always," Rodney answered even as his cock gave its first twitch at the thought. All he had to do was watch the arch of John's back unbending and the way his fingers hesitated teasingly at his fly for just a moment. Rodney might be over the hill, but he still had years of fantasies to catch up on. The times when he could really explore and experiment with John's bendy, sexy body in an actual bed were still rare enough for Rodney to remember every one. It wasn't all about sex for Rodney, but it was the best sex he'd ever had.

By the time he had his shoes off and his chest bare, John was buck naked and impatient. He pressed into Rodney's space and slid a hand down the back of Rodney's pants. "Such a fine ass. Why are you still wearing pants?"

"You're not exactly helping," Rodney pointed out, fingers undoing the button at the front of his uniform pants.

Then John closed the space between them, sliding his naked skin against the length of Rodney's body. Not only was John's erection pressing against Rodney's rapidly filling cock through his pants, but their bare chests rubbed together distractingly. John's chest hair teased Rodney's always sensitive nipples into tight peaks, and John followed up with his fingers, pinching and stroking.

Giving up on his pants for the moment, Rodney ran his hands up John's ass, pulling them closer together and teasing John's crack with his fingertips. "You're trying to rush me, but I'm a perfectionist, you know. When I open you up, I plan to take my time, make sure every muscle is stretched, every nerve ending is firing. The way you're playing my nipples is nothing compared to how I'll milk your sweet spot. You're going to be a quivering mound of jello by the time I'm through with you."

"Well, I know how much you like jello." John bucked against Rodney enthusiastically.

The way his version of dirty talk got John hot and bothered didn't surprise Rodney at this point. The fact John had stopped rushing Rodney, or at least pretending to rush him, was unexpected. It gave Rodney the chance to really massage John's ass as some tension drained out of the military man. After a couple minutes, John was squirming against Rodney but not complaining.

Rodney had no complaints either, except maybe that his pants were getting very uncomfortable. Clinging, riled up John letting Rodney set the pace pushed all of the scientist's buttons tonight. He shifted them half a step to the side and then another half step, wondering if he could reach the nightstand where he kept his lube without John realizing his goal. The challenge was almost as exciting as the way John panted against him, the way he was starting to smell like sweat and a bit of precum.

When they reached the nightstand, Rodney made a game of rubbing his body up and down John's. Flexing his thigh to slide between John's as he also reached the lube. John adapted his body to each motion seamlessly with Rodney's still confined cock now rubbing against John's hip bone. The flyboy's face was buried in Rodney's neck, more nuzzling than sucking or biting. It was about as affectionate as John ever got, and that turned Rodney on even more.

As soon as he had two fingers slick and warm, Rodney traced the crack of John's ass until he brushed lightly, back and forth, across John's hole. Soon the muscular ring was twitching and fluttering, and Rodney felt as if he were playing an instrument. He waited until John moaned to slide a fingertip inside. Then John started pushing back, rocking his hips to try to take Rodney deeper in turn with pressing his cock forward.

"More," John panted. His eyes were practically closed, so Rodney couldn't see the blown pupils, but he knew from the sound of John's voice.

Thinking the lights to a soft glow, Rodney guided John down so his back and head lay across the width of Rodney's prescription mattress. The genius had managed to keep his finger in place and twisted as John went down. He pushed one of John's knees up, and the other followed the motion as Rodney pressed his single finger almost deep enough to give John what he wanted, but not quite.

"More?" John asked again, in a tone Rodney would never call begging within John's hearing, but they both knew it was.

Feeling incredibly multi-talented, Rodney worked in a second finger as he finally unfastened and removed his own pants. His erection reveled at the freedom from confinement. The rest of him reveled in the wanton, squirming figure on his bed. Rodney circled his sweet spot, and John was losing it. The lover whose intelligence Rodney respected more than he would ever admit had gone completely non-verbal and uncoordinated. John was wriggling and flailing, desperate for more of what Rodney was giving him, but too lost in sensation to help himself get there.

Rodney wasn't an expert at putting on a condom one handed, but he liked a challenge. He opened the package with his teeth and struggled to unroll the condom onto his now very engorged cock, all while studying John's reactions and repeating any stroke inside that made his lover writhe and whimper. When he added a third finger John began to keen and buck against his hand. Knowing he couldn't wait much longer, Rodney bent his own knees, pulled out his fingers, and pushed into John in one long stuttering motion.

The heat of John around him, tight muscles resisting and then pulling him in, forced Rodney to gasp and close his eyes.

When he opened them, John was laid out before him, abs tightening and chest rising with each gasping breath. His mouth was half open and his eye barely fluttered. His hands fisted uselessly in the bed covers as Rodney set a slow rhythm designed to take John completely apart.

Amazingly, John just took it, looking more flushed and blissed out with every passing minute. Rodney's muscles protested that this was more work than they'd done on any hike or run in years, but to see John strung out on his cock was all the incentive Rodney needed.

By the time John started to keen, a strange, high-pitched sound he didn't seem to be aware of making, Rodney was pretty desperate to come himself. He fumbled a little more lube onto one palm while his other arm took the full brunt of keeping John positioned just right.

Then Rodney finally, for the first time all night, took John's drooling cock into his slicked up hand. John's muscles practically spasmed in a wave that rippled up his whole body. The keening sound became desperate whines. They were the hottest thing Rodney had ever heard, and he would have come instantly, but he wanted to do everything he could for John first. He matched the rhythm of his hand to the rhythm of his thrusts and let both speed up gradually. But he kept his hand around John's cock loose even as he thrust deeper and deeper.

Rodney was starting to see stars when he flicked his thumb across John's crown and John shouted in a way that might defeat even the soundproofing on Atlantis. Rodney kept his hand steady as he urged pulse after pulse from John's cock, but his own vision and hearing dimmed as the muscles inside John milked waves of orgasm out of Rodney.

When they were both finished, John's legs flopped to the sides like discarded clothing and Rodney had to catch himself on his arms as his own legs gave out.

The position they were in meant Rodney had to pull out and dispose of the condom before long. He managed to snag some tissues to somewhat clean John before collapsing on the bed next to him. At least he'd angled his head to reach the pillows, leaving Rodney diagonal across his queen size, orthopedic mattress. John was still perpendicular, lying on his back with his knees mostly up and out in a froglike position. He was beautiful, even like that, and Rodney couldn't resist running fingers through his always crazy hair.

John pushed into the touch. Then he surprised Rodney by burrowing up into Rodney's side and settling with his head on Rodney's shoulder and one leg flopped across Rodney's. There were some mumbled sounds that John might have imagined were words, but he never even opened his mouth. Then John was asleep, halfway on top of Rodney.

In seven years of clandestine hook-ups, John had never fallen asleep with Rodney. They had never cuddled even this much.

The first time they'd had sex in an actual bed had only been two years earlier. Rodney remembered clearly how John had been worn down by a week of providing disaster relief after a tidal wave hit a trading partner's main settlement, with several people missing and presumed dead. Then as now, John had been twitchy, eyes searching the room as he asked Rodney to fuck him. There had even been moments that first time when John seemed out of control and somewhat out of his mind. But he'd roused himself at the end, tension already reshaping his body.

When Rodney had asked, "Are you staying the night?" John had tensed even more.

The military man had hastily pulled away and said, "No, of course not." Even though "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" had been gone for years, it had seemed clear in that moment that John never planned to stay the night, at least not with Rodney.

Now the scientist wondered what had changed. He worried that John would be upset when he woke and this might lead to another round of avoiding Rodney, without even movies together or casual hook ups. But in the moment, with John nestled beside him, Rodney couldn't help hoping for more. He didn't know exactly what he wanted, but he pulled a loose blanket over them both and traced his fingers over John's skin until he couldn't stay awake any longer.

#


	2. Chapter 2

Low angled sunlight was sneaking past the edge of the blinds when John woke Rodney by stretching out languidly to his full length, still pressed up close against the scientist. "Gotta go if I'm gonna run with Ronon. We should do that more often."

"Yeah," Rodney managed, too stunned to say more.

#

As Dr. Srisuk finished his morning health check, Carson asked, "What would it take for me to move out of the infirmary?"

"You know I'd rather keep you here until you have a new liver and kidney?"

"And we both know that may never happen." As Srisuk opened his mouth to protest, Carson raised a hand to stop him. "I appreciate all you're doing for me, and I don't want to be the terrible patient all doctors are purported to be. But I truly believe I will be less stressed and heal faster in a space I can call my own. You could choose a room convenient to the infirmary if that would make you feel better."

"No one touched your old room down the hall." Srisuk shook his head in resignation. "After not seeing you in over a year on Atlantis, I might have thought you were a myth, but I'd been told the first week which room in the medical personnel hallway belonged to the great Dr. Carson."

"Sorry about that." Carson cringed in embarrassment even as he longed for his familiar room.

"No worries, it was mostly McKay. If you ever want to come back to work as his personal doctor, I'd welcome the assistance."

Carson managed a small laugh but wondered how his old friend was really doing.

"All joking aside, you have a psych check scheduled for today. And I'd need to know you could reach the bathroom reliably on your own."

MedBot 3, who had been reading silently in the corner until now, volunteered, "I am more than capable of bracing and providing support to help Dr. Carson in and out of a wheelchair or other mobility device. I can also provide assistance and supportive handholds for basic hygiene activities."

"Are you planning to stay with Carson full-time throughout his recovery?" Srisuk asked.

"Unless he asks me to leave."

"You don't have to do that," Carson said to the bot. "They don't, do they? The BotKin can choose who they work with and when, right?"

"Yes, you're lucky to have one so interested in you." The smile on Srisuk's face seemed sincere. "For now, we only have manual wheelchairs. I've requested a power assist model from Earth, although I suppose McKay might find a work around sooner if you asked. Or with good physical therapy, you might not need one in a few weeks."

Then the door opened to Ronon carrying rolls and fruit in a loosely wrapped cloth.

"We do feed our patients, you know?" Srisuk gently chided the larger man.

Ronon only grunted and shrugged.

"I'll leave you to your second breakfast," Srisuk said as he headed for the door. "And I'll let you know this evening if I think you're ready to move back to your room. It does seem you'll have plenty of assistance."

Carson felt his face heat even as the door closed and Ronon said, "Anything I can do." Then he swung the tray table over the bed and spread the cloth to reveal lovely specimens of fruits Carson had encountered in his travels and rolls that were still warm when he picked one up.

"Where do you find this stuff?" Carson asked, before savoring his first bite.

"Morning market on the South Pier. Once every ten days it’s a real market with approved vendors from all our allies. But every morning the local people who live on Atlantis share tea and trade basic items and food."

"How many locals live on Atlantis now?" Carson realized he hadn't adjusted his thinking about Atlantis in years, partly because he hadn't left the infirmary this visit and had made little more than a rushed visit for supplies in who knew how long.

When Ronon only shrugged, MedBot 3 said, "487, if I don't include you or the BotKin."

Carson could see how he as a clone created in Pegasus might count as local. The bots he hadn't considered alive, but it could easily be argued that they'd originated in Pegasus even if they'd all been trained by Earthlings until Ronon agreed to train with MedBot 3.

"Was this fruit grown on Atlantis?" Carson asked. As he held up a deep orange slice of something similar to mango that he particularly enjoyed.

"I do not know," MedBot 3 answered. "BotKin are not permitted in outdoor areas or most greenhouses, and I have not studied their inventories. I could ask one of the H-series bots if you want. They train to care for all of Atlantis and monitor food production."

"But they can't go outside or into most greenhouses either?" Carson asked.

"No, but there are only four of them to care for all the areas they can access. There used to be thousands to maintain all of Atlantis and keep the Ancients fed."

"How do the BotKin feel about all these restrictions?"

"I think they feel differently. Mostly I think about how I feel. I think I am happy to be training with you and Ronon now."

At that moment the doors opened and Rodney stepped in. "Oh, you have company. And you're eating." He waved his arms wide and shook his head. "I'll come back later."

"Rodney, you don't have to go," Carson called out, but Rodney was already leaving. Much as he cared about the other man, Carson often found Rodney hard to fathom as a friend, co-worker, or really in any role but as his patient. He'd give Rodney time to sort out what he wanted and trust that he'd return when it suited him.

#

Aside from seeing JiJi in Kusanagi's office, Madison hadn't randomly encountered any other BotKin. Not sure how else to make amends for their poor performance at the therapy circle, Madison added a meeting with Murderbot to their calendar on their third morning in Atlantis. That led to anxiety dreams the night before and a knot in their stomach large enough to block any thought of breakfast that morning.

When they arrived at the bots' meeting room, Murderbot was standing by a shelf watching videos with no sound audible to Madison. A wave of Murderbot's hand paused the screen showing a unicorn shooting rainbow sparkles out of its horn.

"You're watching _Legends of Tomorrow_?" Madison blurted.

"Yes, you have something to say about it?"

The challenging tone had Madison ready to speak their mind about the current season and what they thought of the show overall, but they remembered what they'd come for. They breathed deep and counted twelve racks of five shelves each before managing to say, "Nah, just that I watched it, too." Madison raised their eyes to meet Murderbot's cameras. "I came here to apologize for questioning your name. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted. I was more annoyed that the meeting didn't go better." Murderbot placed their hands on their hips, and Madison was struck by how human they seemed in appearance, mannerism, and speech.

"I feel bad about that, too. Any ideas on how I can do better by you and the other BotKin?"

"I won't speak for the others." Murderbot made their way out from the aisle of shelves to stand closer to Madison, or possibly to survey the room. "If you hang out here, most of them will stop by sometime. You can ask them."

"And what can I do for you?"

Murderbot tilted their triangular head. "Have you played Island Empire?"

"Is that a video game? I'm not much of a gamer."

Murderbot shrugged. Their upper arms were long triangles that formed quite convincing shoulders. "I think I'd like to watch you try. It's not the sort of game you can win anyway."

There was only one answer Madison could give. As something to do for Murderbot, this didn't seem too bad. "Okay, is it on one of these machines?"

"You can bring it up on any Ancient monitor. Use your account for the science library." Murderbot walked to the far corner of the room by an Ancient monitor saying, "I'll set up a desk for you to play at." Then some attachment on their arm made a fast whirring noise and in under a minute Murderbot had reassembled a metal bookshelf into a desk shape, with a small set of shelves on one side. They pulled over two of the chairs from the ill-fated therapy circle and motioned for Madison to sit down.

Once Madison had logged in, they asked, "What sort of character should I play?"

"Your choice. The elves came from a previous game called Elven Intrigue, and I think different elves may represent different factions of Earthlings. The dwarves I'm pretty sure represent Asgardians."

"What about the dragons?"

"They originated in Lair Legal, where different dragon families negotiated mineral or marriage rights. I'm not sure if the families were based on real groups in Pegasus or the Milky Way. It started in 2008, before any BotKin were here to observe. I think it's a sort of manners comedy with a lot of talk about precedent."

Madison shuddered. Definitely not a dragon then. "The giant bugs? Or clouds?"

"Don't know. I haven't seen them played."

"Hey look, there's a unicorn! But no, I think I'd rather be a pegasus. We can customize it to look like a hippogriff." The image Madison wanted was suddenly clear in their mind, and the tools in the game were easy to use.

"Do you write Harry Potter fic?" Murderbot asked.

"No, but I've read plenty. My generation grew up with Harry Potter. Should we make our hippogriff black? We could call them Blackbeak."

"They're not ours. They're yours." Murderbot's tone was flatter than a moment before.

Keeping their eyes on the game, Madison tried to keep the conversation friendly. "Where's the fun in that? What tower do you want to nest on?"

Murderbot grudgingly pointed them toward a gray and blue tower complete with crenellations on top. Planning a residence turned out to be a lot more complicated than designing an avatar, and Murderbot cautiously shared a great deal of knowledge about the game.

Different towers had different residency requirements, and most of them wouldn't allow hippogriffs at all. The central tower was entirely controlled by elves. Various dragon families dominated several in the southern reaches. The tower they ended up nesting atop, in the southwest, had recently been cleared out by local peasants, and Madison wasn't sure their roof nest was strictly legal. A lot of the game seemed to be about negotiating or trading with other characters to get what you wanted. In addition to agreeing to work several shifts guarding the city by flying above it or out on scouting missions, Blackbeak needed to get a garden up and running or risk starvation. The hippogriff turned out to eat a lot, although Madison wasn't clear on how the game calculated their dietary requirements. They weren't the same as those listed for a pegasus.

Madison and Murderbot were deep into planning their garden when another robot, H511, who actually had his name written on his chassis, pointed out a flaw in their irrigation system. It was only then that Madison realized two H-system bots and two CatBots were crowded around watching. Murderbot adjusted the shelves to give the CatBots better vantage points, and they all pooled their ideas to build Blackbeak the best rooftop dwelling unit in the city.

#

When Carson was allowed back into his own room that night, it felt more like déjà vu than a real homecoming. MedBot 3 pushed him in a wheelchair, so his point of view was lower than usual. The cupboards in his small kitchen area loomed over him. But his familiar kettle and bread box still sat where he had left them.

Because he'd sometimes had patients come to his room late at night or for off the record advice, he'd set up a broad brown sofa and two comfy tan chairs around a tea table in a corner by the room's Ancient console. MedBot 3 adjusted the seating to allow better wheelchair and bot access.

Carson's bed was on the far side of the room, mostly hidden by a bookcase. The wheelchair could only fit on one side, and MedBot 3 wouldn't be able to get past the wheelchair to help him out in that case. But the bed was too big for the bot to move alone, and Carson wouldn't be any help with that at present.

A quick check of the dresser and closet showed the clothing Carson had left behind still waiting for him.

"Could you take me back to the kitchen, MedBot 3? I'd like to make a cup of tea before bed." The bot wheeled him around and then used their long appendages to pull down the many tea things that had been left on high shelves. Adjusting a cushion, Carson was able to raise himself high enough to make his own tea, although MedBot 3 watched carefully the whole time, undoubtedly committing the process to memory.

Ronon showed up just in time for Carson to ask, "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Yes, thanks." Ronon's eyes crinkled with amusement at the dozens of boxes, tins, tea balls, and so on that MedBot 3 had pulled down. "You have a lot. Any of that Athosian or Lov'oton?"

"The two tins on the left are Athosian. Next to them are other local blends. Feel free to open and sniff to find something you like."

Ronon seemed to savor the opportunity to smell them all, even after he chose one, saying to Carson, "I think I had something like this as a kid."

Carson decided to have the same and set their tea to steep as MedBot 3 put the rest away on a lower shelf than before.

"Anything I can do to help?" Ronon asked as he handed MedBot 3 the last Earth tea he'd examined.

"Our tea will take a few minutes to steep, but if you wouldn't mind pushing my bed all the way into the far corner, that would give me and MedBot 3 more room to maneuver later."

"I could assist, if you want," MedBot 3 offered.

So Ronon and MedBot 3 moved the bed. Then MedBot 3 settled to one side as Ronon and Carson sat down to tea across from each other at the small table. After they took their first sips, Carson asked, "How does this tea compare to what you had on Sateda?"

"Better," Ronon smiled. "But I was just a kid then, wanting to try whatever those older than me thought was good. No one in my family really liked Satedan tea, so someone was always bringing home a new tea to try."

"Really? How many in your family traveled offworld?"

"Depends on how you count family." Ronon took another sip of tea and set down his cup. "You want the long explanation of that or the short one?"

"As much as you're happy to tell." Carson smiled over his tea cup.

When Ronon looked at MedBot 3, the bot said, "I agree."

"Figured." Ronon smiled, and Carson knew he didn't mind. "On Sateda, families tended have a physical place where they would keep adding onto a house or building more houses clustered together. I was still a child of the Dex at the end, because I didn't know if I'd be staying in that place or moving into another family's place later. If I'd stayed, I would have been part of the family within the Dex. If I'd moved elsewhere but kept up my family connections, I would have been part of the family among the Dex. During the years I lived there, the family within the Dex grew from 12 to 14. There were over 20 children of the Dex. And maybe 60 family among the Dex. Almost everyone had been offworld, and probably half of us brought back tea at some point."

"And my mum felt overrun with five of us." Mundane memories cropped up that Carson hadn't thought about in years, and it didn't for once matter to him if he was a clone or not. "We each had our own color assigned to keep our cups, towels, and toothbrushes sorted. Did your family do anything like that?"

"Sanad sewed or carved our name symbol on everything. Redid them all if we outgrew something or passed it on. Was your color blue?" Ronon's eyes flicked from the tea set to the quilt on Carson's bed, both patterned in blue and white.

"It was in fact, although I thought that was lucky all along." Carson studied his tea set, which he had made some small effort to bring back after his first return to Earth. "Now you have me wondering if I grew to like the color because it was presented as mine."

"Does it matter?" Ronon asked, picking his tea up again.

"Probably not. People here think I drink tea because I'm British. I've favored Athosian and other blends since I first came to Pegasus, but who knows how that would have played out if I'd been raised drinking coffee."

Ronon relaxed back in his chair. "People thought everything different about me must be Satedan at first, but I'd been a Runner for seven years. When I got here, I grabbed whatever I could get. Almost no local foods or wares then. Hard to say now what matters most."

"Where'd you learn about that dumpling soup you brought me?" Carson asked.

"South Pier," Ronon smiled. "But feeding you hearty soft food and fresh fruit, learned that on Sateda. You look a lot better."

"Thanks. I've never had better care." Carson nodded to Ronon but then to MedBot 3 as well.

When the bot flashed two lights and wiggled their antennae, Carson asked, "Did you want to ask a question?"

MedBot 3 surprised Carson by asking, "Do you have access to all the tests run on Dr. Keller when she was exposed to the Wraith pathogen that partially changed her into a hive ship?"

It took Carson half a minute to change tracks, but he managed to say, "I might still be able to access those records, but I'd need a good reason."

Three lights flashed. "As you suggested, I read all the files on the Hoffan drug and the Iratus Bug virus. There were references to Dr. Keller coming into contact with the altered Hoffan drug distributed by Michael Kenmore. She also worked on the cure for the degenerative disorder caused by the cloning process Michael used on you. While training with Dr. Biro, I studied the plague that eradicated the Wraith while Atlantis was away on Earth. Components of that plague included Michael's adapted form of the Hoffan drug and the cloning degenerative disorder. However, Dr. Biro previously concluded from your lab results that you could not have been patient negative one in the plague that killed the Wraith. She tested samples from Teyla and Kanaan thinking the last step before the plague spread to the Wraith might have been humans with some Wraith DNA. She did not find it in either of them. I could ask Dr. Biro to access the data on Dr. Keller if you would prefer."

Carson's mind swam with the updated information on Dr. Biro and MedBot 3's work. He'd spent very little time on Atlantis in the last decade and had forgotten how deep the research rabbit holes could go. In recent years, he'd been working with people trying to rebuild medical systems and to support an aging population after the disappearance of the Wraith. In all that time, he hadn't felt the need to know exactly what had killed them. He'd certainly never considered himself or Dr. Keller as a possible vector. The version of himself that first came to Atlantis might have dug into exactly the research Dr. Biro and MedBot 3 had pursued. But he didn't think being a clone changed that in him. It was time and experience. He said to MedBot 3, "I was hoping to stop by Dr. Biro's lab tomorrow to discuss the Bad Blood vaccine. I would love to be there when you tell her your theory about Dr. Keller."

Three lights flashed.

"I will be interested to see you and Dr. Biro interact." Carson said to MedBot 3. Then to Ronon he added, "I'm sorry, this probably seems very theoretical and boring to you."

"No, I always found the work of healers interesting." Ronon's immediate answer brought back dim memories that Ronon's fiancé on Sateda had been a healer, and some had thought his brief interest in Jennifer Keller stemmed from that. Carson was worrying that they'd stumbled across a sensitive subject when Ronon surprised him by volunteering more. "For many lifetimes, the primary goal of Satedans and many others was survival, for themselves or their people. To find another planet or old records with a cure for something like the Bad Blood is the stuff of legends. If Dr. Biro and MedBot 3 can learn more about the plague that killed the Wraith, that could save some future generation from a hidden population of Wraith. Or help people like Teyla and Kanaan if some disease affects that part of them."

Carson had given MedBot 3 information on the Hoffan drug and the Iratus Bug virus as warnings against genocide and careless or prideful medical experiments. But the bot had found potential answers to other research questions, and Ronon expressed hope for helping future populations. Carson shook his head. It wasn't his place to say which lessons or learning were most valuable. "Those aren't the reactions I expected."

Facing MedBot 3, Ronon said, "Someday BotKin might travel between planets to share medical research the way people here will share a cure from the SGC on Earth."

"Would the people of Pegasus want to train with me?" MedBot 3 asked.

Ronon shrugged. "I don't know why people on Atlantis don't want to. I can't speak for the rest of Pegasus. But Healer Tan Po seemed more bothered by McKay's rudeness than by the medical team arriving in biohazard suits."

"Poor, patient Healer Tan Po. I owe him and others much more than the vaccine and a cure for Bad Blood." Carson thought back to his psych evaluation that afternoon. The psychologist had asked Carson to challenge himself whenever he assumed responsibility or guilt for his various issues, but they hadn't even touched upon the people who'd most recently cared for him as he was dying.

"Wasn't very patient with McKay," Ronon scoffed.

"I wouldn't want my patience judged by how I deal with McKay, though I should probably track him down tomorrow." Carson sighed, setting down his tea cup. "I thought he'd come back after his aborted visit this morning."

"I'm sure McKay and Biro would be happy to visit here so you can rest more," Ronon said.

Carson shook his head.

"May I inspect and inventory your dwelling to prepare for future health and hospitality needs?" MedBot 3 asked.

"Go ahead, MedBot 3, but at least for Biro, I want to visit her lab." Carson was determined to manage that much tomorrow, so he could start contributing in some way. Then he'd see what he could do for Rodney.

#

After violently red-lining and adding distinctive insulting comments to three of his science staff's research proposals, Rodney decided catching up on paperwork might not be the best plan for his evening. He was sure Sheppard wouldn't drop by for several nights after the unprecedented intimacy of staying over the night before. So Rodney was lounging on his bed in his most threadbare (and most comfortable) cotton pajamas with his favorite CatBot, Data, while re-watching the cheesy first season of _The OA_. The premise that people could save lives by performing a sort of dance they learned during near death experiences should have offended every rational bone in his body. Instead, Rodney was tempted to learn the moves himself.

John's distinctive knock at the door startled Rodney so much he practically jumped off the bed. Data fled through a floor vent, which was probably just as well given John's general unease with the small BotKin. If John had come to break things off with Rodney or otherwise deny and rationalize, Rodney preferred not to have any audience. He took one deep breath and forced himself to walk calmly to the door.

On the other side he found John holding a large bowl of popcorn. The Colonel was not only out of uniform but wearing sweats and a plain black tee shirt, his hair wet as if he'd just showered after a workout. "Hey, you up for a movie?"

Given their past history, Rodney thought denial or acting as if the night before had never happened meant he was getting off easy. "Come in." Once the doors closed, Rodney asked, "What did you want to watch?"

"Whatever you're already watching is fine." John made himself comfortable sitting at the head of Rodney's bed with a pillow behind his back. Then he spread his legs wide and patted between them, holding the popcorn to one side with his other hand.

In all the times they'd watched shows together, they'd never sat that way. But Rodney was too confused to argue. He left the laptop where it was set up at the end of his bed and hit play.

When he sat between John's legs, the thighs on each side pressed in briefly, warming him through his thin sleep pants and making him extremely aware of the warmth of John's crotch and torso behind him.

John settled the bowl of popcorn on Rodney's lap and took a handful to munch as his free hand settled on Rodney's hip.

The buttery, salty smell of popcorn settled some of Rodney's unease. His first bite confirmed it tasted as good as it smelled and led to a second bite and a third. Rodney was happily stuffing his face and watching The OA when he realized both of John's hands were stroking his sides, up from his hips to his pecs, then lightly skimming down again. After all their hook-ups, it shouldn't have been a big deal, but Rodney had never been touched like that, never sat between someone-'s legs in such a position, and had certainly not expected any of it while watching videos with John.

His body didn't seem to share his brain's puzzlement. His cock was swelling under the strategically place bowl of popcorn and everyplace John touched seemed to radiate heat across Rodney's skin. "Is there something you'd like?" Rodney asked.

"Naw, just enjoying the show." John's tone and the way he rocked his hips forward an inch made it clear he meant to be a tease, but when Rodney tried to turn John said, "Don't get distracted from your show and your popcorn." The next time John's hands skimmed across Rodney's pecs, each of his fingers grazed lightly across Rodney's nipples. That had Rodney fully hard, and he was pretty sure John knew, but he insisted on continuing his game until the episode ended.

It was John who turned the computer off as he set the empty popcorn bowl aside. Rodney realized his eyes were closed and his thighs were quivering, although John hadn't touched below the hips yet.

When John sat back he let his hands drag pseudo-carelessly all the way up Rodney's legs, and Rodney had to bite back on a whimper. "I didn't know you found the OA's five movements so arousing. Maybe I should learn them. Or I could keep making up my own." John circled one hand on Rodney's thigh and the other on his chest.

Rodney didn't speak for fear of what other noises might escape him. By this point he was more than willing to go along with whatever John wanted to do. But for now John seemed determined to pet and tease until Rodney fell apart in his lap or begged for more. There was something in Rodney that wanted John's touch even more than he wanted sex or orgasm right now. While Rodney wasn't known for his patience, he could be pretty determined when finally getting what he wanted. Even if he hadn't known what he wanted until now.

He let himself shiver and writhe, knowing his ass was rubbing against John's erection the whole time. His nipples were so sensitized they almost hurt, but it was a sort of borderline hurt that made every other touch feel better.

Then John's hands slipped under Rodney's shirt for the first time in all that foreplay, and Rodney stopped breathing. He thought he might come from the first graze of calloused fingers against his taut nipples. A groan escaped him even though he bit his lips to keep it in.

"Is that all it takes to make you groan and pant?" With John's words Rodney realized he was in fact panting, his body finally giving in to the need to breathe. "Just a hand under your shirt? What if I took it all the way off?"

John slid the threadbare shirt up until it covered Rodney's face and partly trapped his arms. Then he pinched and rolled Rodney's nipples, and Rodney cried out. "I love how sensitive you are there," John said. Then he stroked lightly but relentlessly across and around both nipples before finally removing Rodney's shirt.

John flipped them over. The sudden pressure all along the front of Rodney's body soothed his skin but made his erection feel suddenly urgent. He started to rock his hips into the mattress but John straddled his ass to hold him still saying, "Wouldn't you rather wait for me to fuck you?"

John had never fucked Rodney on a bed. He'd seemed to prefer hard and fast against a wall, and never with a lead up like this. Perhaps that was why Rodney had thought he preferred to top with John. Now Rodney was overwhelmed by the new complexity of their relationship. It was a social algorithm with constantly changing weights on the variables and too many conditional statements.

Besides, he was desperate to have John inside him. He wanted John everywhere, touching as much of his skin as possible.

When Rodney tried to press up into John's erection, John lay down as if covering Rodney with a blanket. His cock settled in the crack of Rodney's ass, and John mumbled. "These sleep pants are so thin I can feel the dimples in your butt." Then John was nibbling at Rodney's shoulder and stroking his upper arms as he undulated from chest to toes against him. It felt like John was surfing Rodney's body, and the thought of John surfing had never been so hot. Every wave of motion pressed and rubbed Rodney's front against the soft blankets on his bed. He groaned again and struggled not to come from the 360 sensations.

The soft and very thin sleep pants Rodney wore suddenly felt like too much clothing, not to mention what John wore above him. John seemed to share the same thought. He shifted to his knees above Rodney as he uncovered Rodney's ass and kissed his way down. He didn't linger as long on Rodney's legs, which was almost a shame. But when John pulled away, Rodney opened his eyes to see his lover stripping off his own shirt, revealing flushed skin and his own peaked nipples. The bulge in his pants was clearly outlined before John uncovered his proud, red erection and pulled the lube from Rodney's nightstand.

"Spread your thighs for me, Rodney. Show me where I should touch next."

Rodney was too far gone to be embarrassed. He stared at his buck naked lover and shifted his knees as high and wide as he could.

Then John was behind him, sliding two slick fingers between his cheeks even as a still dry hand traced outlines on one side. The slick fingers circled his hole, and Rodney let his shoulders sink to the bed burying his face and breathing out as he relaxed.

"Best ass ever." John's warm hand clutched one cheek and his first finger pressed in. Soon he was twisting and pushing in closer to Rodney's sweet spot. It was all Rodney could do not to press his cock down into the blankets, but he knew he'd come almost instantly if he did. As it was, when John finally rubbed two fingers at just the right angle inside, Rodney couldn't help but push back, wanting more. Not wanting to wait.

"Easy there, it's going to get even better." John's hand that had kept up light stroking across Rodney's ass and lower back now reached for more lube, letting John add a third finger. Even as John filled him there were fingers teasing Rodney's skin, spreading heat outward like lightening. When John's fingers stuttered along Rodney's ribs, it seemed like a tug at his nipples with John's fingers twisting inside might be enough to send Rodney over the edge. But John seemed to know and didn't quite touch his nipples that time.

Instead he pulled his fingers out and after a faint crackle and the pop of the cap on the lube, John spread Rodney's cheeks apart and slowly sank in. Past the first ring of muscle. Past the point where Rodney shivered with the intrusion. All the way deep inside. Then John somehow lifted Rodney's hips and sank even deeper. Rodney felt pinned. Skewered. As if the space filled inside extended to the burning, tingling skin all around him. The moment stretched.

Then John started to pound in and out. Every thrust pulled far back and pressed deep. Every time John slid past the bundle of nerves at Rodney's prostate. Every time it shook Rodney through to his core. But John kept it slow, hollowing Rodney out, but not speeding the pace. Holding Rodney's hips high enough that nothing touched Rodney's now dripping cock. Sliding past Rodney's sweet spot over and over, but not quite hitting it.

At some point Rodney became aware that he was groaning with every stroke. John was panting above him and holding tight. Holding back. They were both caught on the edge in some holding pattern the pilot controlled with precision and strength.

Soon Rodney's whole body felt like liquid, swirling with desire and not capable of holding his own position. John's motion inside him controlled both their bodies. Only when John finally started cursing did the pace pick up. His thrusts became fast and not quite even. He changed his angle until he was hitting Rodney's prostate every time.

Rodney's body exploded into orgasm untouched and the noises that escaped his mouth were sharp and rough. John kept thrusting through it, as if pushing every sensation and every drop of come from Rodney's body. Only at the very end did Rodney feel John chasing his own release, setting Rodney's muscles into a final round of clenching, before they both collapsed in a messy, exhausted heap.

#

When Rodney woke on his side, relatively clean and under the blankets, he didn't remember John getting him there. But John was wrapped around him, his front to Rodney's back, all four limbs in skin to skin contact with Rodney. In the moment, it felt fantastic, and Rodney went back to sleep almost immediately.

#

The next time he woke, Rodney was on his back, with John half sprawled on top of him again. It reminded Rodney of the previous morning, the first time John had ever spent the night.

While Rodney had no complaints and only wished they could have had sex and all the rest like this for years, he couldn't help remembering when he had asked, "Are you staying the night?" and John had said, "No, of course not," so absolutely.

Now John stirred against his side and said, "You're thinking too loud."

And Rodney blurted, "Just wondering what changed."

"What do you mean?" John yawned and mumbled, "seems natural to me," into Rodney's chest.

"Then what was different that first night when you said 'of course not' to staying the night?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe you're remembering an anxiety dream. Unless you want something different." John sounded too awake at the last.

Rodney quickly said, "No, I think the last couple nights were just about perfect."

"Good," John said, "Then let's sleep until sunrise at least."

Rodney knew he hadn't dreamed or imagined that first rebuff. Every detail was etched into his brain. He'd even referenced it obliquely on a chart he wouldn't admit to making that mostly documented how John responded to various kinds of sex. Rodney's reputation for giving the world's best blow jobs from college onward had been based on keeping track of what he tried and what his partners responded to, both in general and with each new partner and sex act in particular.

But even he knew not to confront John with his facts and documentation. He liked what they were doing now and wasn't going to risk it to prove he was right. Still, the sudden change in John and this apparent loss of memory made Rodney's gut squirm with memories of his own descent into the Second Childhood and how long it had taken anyone to notice. He tried to keep his breathing even enough to not worry John until his genius brain latched onto what was really the most obvious explanation. John had changed the night after the Terangines had asked him for a memory.

#

After a solitary breakfast in the mess hall, Madison drifted to the CS-3 lab. No one came through in the time it took to adjust the simulations they'd been running on an isolated Ancient console and then search for new possibilities on both the Ancient and Earth-based networks. There was no easy way to tell if Kusanagi was in her office, and it didn't really matter.

By ten in the morning, Madison packed up enough equipment to work from the bots' meeting room. The desk Murderbot had assembled was still set up in the corner with a couple of CatBots curled up together on the shelf created for their viewing convenience. Madison set down their load and said a quick, "Hi."

"Hi, Madison! Are you going to play Island Empire?" one asked.

"I don't know. Maybe in a little while." Madison hesitated before adding, "I'd like to greet you both by name, but I'm having trouble recognizing each of you."

"I'm R2-D2, pronouns he and him. You can recognize me by the blue stripe near my front sensors." Sure enough, there was a line neatly drawn in what looked like blue permanent marker just behind the bot's forward cameras and retractable antennae.

"I am called Lassie. My pronouns are she and her. I used to have furry ears, but they broke off. Now I have these." The little bot extended two antennae with metal triangles at the tips and swiveled them about thirty degrees forward and back.

"Cute," Madison said and then covered their mouth. "Is that offensive?"

"I took it as a compliment," Lassie said. "I will waggle my ears in the future when I greet you, so you can more easily identify me."

"Thank you. I appreciate it." Bringing up some Ancient subroutines they hadn't had a chance to study yet, Madison said, "I brought work that could handle interruptions, so feel free to comment or chat if you're interested."

"I've seen that code before and am more interested to hear your thoughts as you first view it," R2-D2 said.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," said Lassie, who then proceeded to climb down from the shelf using six separate appendages.

Madison almost offered to help, to just lift the small bot to the ground. But on Earth it was easy to offend people by offering to help those with divergent mobility or processing needs. Madison had experience on both sides of that and mostly wished there was a set of clear rules or ways to know. "You don't happen to have any sort of guide for how BotKin like to interact, like a rule book or an etiquette guide?"

"Wouldn't that bias our training?" R2-D2 asked.

"Are there things you don't like? Do you have feelings?" Madison turned their chair to better face the CatBot shelf.

"I did not like how the therapy circle ended, because it was inconclusive and did not complete its goals." R2-D2's antennae drooped and he made a sad burble noise that sounded a lot like his namesake.

"Is meeting goals rewarded or is failing to meet them punished based on your programming or training?" Madison realized they needed more information on base states and designs for various types of BotKin and wondered if that was only available by direct interactions like this.

"CatBot base algorithms do reward confirming predictions as well as touch. Ninety-two percent of my training with humans so far has involved work in labs or other goal-oriented tasks. My decision-making capacities reflect the biases of those involved in my training."

Madison now felt bad about the "therapy circle" for entirely new reasons. "Your communications are more advanced and human-sounding than any so-called AIs on Earth. Is Ancient tech just that good or are you sapient or sentient?"

"Earthlings have suggested the Ancients limited the BotKin to keep us from becoming a threat, but CatBots in particular were designed to be good companions as well as contributing good work to the community. Do you think the Ancients would have prevented us from becoming sapient or sentient?"

The answer was less direct than Madison expected, but perhaps whatever humans trained with the BotKin had skirted around this subject or answered questions with questions as well. "I wouldn't in their place, but I'm hardly an expert on Ancients. I barely understand most humans. But you didn't answer my question."

"To know if I exceeded parameters for sapience or sentience, I would need to identify those parameters. To do so, I would have to access data beyond those parameters, thereby exceeding them."

"So you might not know if you crossed the line until after you crossed it, if ever. And humans might not know either." Madison felt like a therapist, repeating what they thought they'd heard.

"That is my conclusion as well." R2-D2 burbled in a way that sounded happy. Even if that only signaled the CatBot was rewarded for confirming a prediction, it made Madison happy to hear it.

R2-D2 watched silently for a while as Madison paged through Ancient code. They tried to provide some commentary for training purposes, but soon became absorbed in following loops and function calls.

Madison startled, jerking back in their seat, when Murderbot and Lassie came in the main door.

Lassie rolled and then climbed rapidly to rejoin R2-D2 and rub against him. Murderbot hesitated at the door. "They said you didn't mind interruptions, but it looks like we broke your focus."

"But I don't mind," Madison answered. "Please, come join us."

Still not moving forward, Murderbot insisted, "You looked like you minded. Your body jerked and your shoulders are still higher than before."

"The startle response is physical and instinctive, but that doesn't mean I mind being interrupted."

"It looks like you do," Murderbot said, unmoving.

The conversation felt like an infinite programming loop. The critique of Madison's physical behavior brought back hundreds of adults' judging looks and kids' hurtful jokes. The summer when Madison was seven, their mom had taken them to an occupational therapist to learn alternatives to self-soothing behaviors like rocking or tapping and how to better reciprocate eye contact and appropriate social touch. After that they'd never been sure when people's critiques about their posture, acting aloof, ignoring people, or being too focused on a task were pointing out ways they were different from others or just different in that moment. Now a very human-seeming bot was complaining about Madison reacting in a way that might or might not be normal for humans.

When Madison heard their own teeth grating, they stopped. They took three deep breaths to break away from the chain of thoughts and hurt feelings. They needed to relax and think of Murderbot as a friend or at least a potential ally, even if it was hard to relax under such scrutiny. "Maybe part of me dislikes sudden changes or anything unexpected, and maybe the physical response is a tiny bit unpleasant. But I came here because I want to interact and train with you and other BotKin. Spending time with you is much more rewarding to me than a momentary startle is annoying to me."

Murderbot didn't answer, but they finally walked into the room.

"Is the physical response like a base algorithm punishment in humans and the progress toward your goals something rewarded and possibly learned through your training with others?" R2-D2 asked, and Madison immediately followed his logical comparison to the previous conversation.

"Yes, that seems like a good analysis."

The CatBots rubbed together and Madison wondered if the reward for a valid prediction fed into the touch reward.

Murderbot finally sat on their chair from the day before and R2-D2 said, "I will share my training recording with you later."

After a nod to R2-D2, Murderbot turned their attention to Madison. "Would you like to play a game?"

"Are you quoting War Games?" Madison asked without thinking and then immediately worried that might sound prejudiced when speaking to a BotKin.

Murderbot simply answered, "Yes."

"Did you like it?"

Murderbot shrugged and tilted their triangular head. "It was a bit simplistic and not something I would choose on my own. Kusanagi gave us a list of media that might be referenced by Earthlings discussing BotKin. It helps to understand what people are saying about us."

If it wasn't so personal, Madison might have explained how their being upset by Murderbot's comments a moment before tied into a lifetime of trying to understand what people were saying about them.

"Fair enough," was all the response Madison could manage. They minimized the code they'd been studying and logged into their Island Empire account from the day before. "This is a much better game than Global Thermonuclear War."

"Agreed," Murderbot and the CatBots answered at once.

#

Madison and Murderbot had been playing Island Empire for over two hours when LabBot 1 arrived and asked loudly, "Why is the human in our meeting room?"

It was only then that Madison realized the CatBots had left without them noticing. Now LabBot 1 was rolling toward them and Madison felt backed into a corner, or like they were hiding behind their desk. "I'm sorry I upset you in the therapy circle," Madison offered.

LabBot 1 stopped in front of the makeshift desk. "I wasn't upset. I don't want you here."

"I invited them to visit anytime," Murderbot answered, standing up.

"You're not in charge of this room."

Murderbot moved in front of the desk. "This is the closest thing to an office or space of my own that I have. I can invite who I want. You never objected to Kusanagi coming here."

"Kusanagi worked on the devices on the shelves." LabBot 1 waved an appendage toward the shelves. "She never stayed longer than she was comfortable standing and working. You made this human a desk." LabBot 1 waved another appendage. "You made them an office within BotKin space." Two new appendages extruded from the heavy cubic shape that was LabBot 1's main body. All four appendages started waving up and down in a manner strangely reminiscent of Madison's Uncle Rodney.

"They don't have an office anywhere else." Murderbot didn't move from their position in front of the desk, and Madison didn't dare to interfere without some signal that Murderbot wished them to. "I want this training opportunity. R2-D2 and Lassie wanted this training earlier as well. You hardly use this room."

"But it is mine to come back to when I want to get away from humans." With four arms extended, LabBot 1's sweeping gestures very effectively took in the entire room

"You can build your own office in another corner." Murderbot telescoped their cameras toward the farthest corner as if pointing out how far away it was.

"I know I can. I can also uninvite anyone you invite to this room." All four limbs crashed to the floor as if LabBot 1 were stamping their feet.

At that point, a swarm of CatBots entered through a floor vent. It wasn't all sixteen. Madison counted seven once the grate closed. "We can all invite them." The one speaking had a blue stripe, R2-D2.

LabBot 1 scraped their "feet" menacingly in the direction of the CatBots but didn't move. "Fine, we'll set up office hours. I'll take nights, 8 PM to 8 AM. Madison's office hours can be any time between 8 AM and 8 PM." LabBot 1 retracted all four appendages and left the room as fast as they could roll. No one said a word until the door closed behind them.

Madison wondered aloud, "Do you think there's anything I could do to improve that relationship?"

"Sometimes avoiding people is the best alternative," Murderbot said, going back to their seat.

Still jittery from the aborted confrontation and not wanting to invade the bots' space too much, Madison said, "Honestly, I wasn't planning to be here anywhere close to twelve hours a day. Office hours on Earth are usually two to ten hours a week when a professor or grad student agrees to be available in their office."

"Do you want to specify hours when we can all expect to find you here?" Lassie asked, wagging her ears.

"That would be more efficient for us than having to check your room and various labs when you might not even be in a part of the city we can access," R2-D2 added.

"You could stay longer when that suited you and whoever you were training with," Murderbot said.

Madison thought about how best to balance the bots' needs against their advisor's expectations, admittedly minimal so far, and any other training or meetings that might be required. "How about if I try to be here at least from 10 to 11 AM each day, and I'll post a sign on this desk if that changes. Or will you need to disassemble the desk at some point?"

"Keep Madison's desk and Madison's office and the shelf for CatBots," Lassie said, wagging both ears at full extension.

"I think I will also set up a desk and office space," Murderbot said. "Would you like me to make a shelf for CatBots to more easily view media with me?"

All the CatBots said "yes" or waved appendages up and down.

As Murderbot started gathering pieces to create a new desk nearby, Madison said, "I should probably go to lunch."

"Yes, lunch is good for humans," one of the CatBots, who Madison vaguely identified as Pluto, said.

Madison vowed to learn all the BotKin's names and distinguishing marks in the next few days, but for now, their very human stomach was rumbling greedily.

#

Rodney was working his way through the daily updates from Earth, his fifth cup of coffee, and what the mess hall was calling lasagna when he saw Madison filling a tray with soup, salad, and the Belusian cheese rolls he liked but hadn't noticed.

"Madison Miller!" he shouted across the mess hall. Several heads turned, and Madison almost spilled their tray. "Get over here and bring me four of those cheese rolls."

Madison glared the way only a teenager could, but made their way to Rodney's table at a fast walk, and with an extra plate of rolls. "Don't shout anything that will give away that we're related," they hissed at a volume even Rodney could barely hear from across the table.

"Like it's my fault you riled my sister up against me!" Rodney did manage to whisper as he took his plate of rolls. "But no, that doesn't give me any right to embarrass you as a family member."

Madison glanced side to side before whispering back, "I don't want people to think you got me hired."

That stopped Rodney for a moment. He was used to people being embarrassed by him, but Madison deserved recognition for being smart enough to get their own job. "Follow me."

Rodney picked up his tray and stomped out of the mess hall, stopping at the nearest empty meeting room, a small one sometimes used for lab group celebrations or lunch meetings. It had a single large window with a view of the ocean, but no way for others to see inside. He knew from many experiences with shouting down minions that it was soundproof and could keep any argument private. Rodney waited until the doors closed and Madison set down their tray before he yelled, "What's this about you missing graduation!"

Madison's shoulders curled in at his tone, but they answered fast enough, "It's stupid. And seriously, I'm in another galaxy."

Rodney slammed his own tray down across from Madison's at the long rectangular table. "Well, of course it's stupid, so are awards banquets. You're supposed to complain about them but still go. Didn't Caltech teach you anything? They take pictures. People see you and remember your name. It's not as if you were graduating from some junior college like Stanford! Jeannie wrote to berate me because you're supposed to be getting your Master's degree from Caltech today!"

"It's only a Master's. I walked last year for my Bachelor's. Mom can retouch those pictures if she cares so much." Madison braced their hands on their hips and stared out the window.

Rodney waved his arms in exasperation, but Madison didn't even look his way. "She thinks it's my fault! That I lured you out here!"

"To be fair, I didn't know you worked in another galaxy until after I took the offer and was read in on the program. Now I think you're only half as much of a jerk for never coming to visit or answering our emails." Madison blinked a few times, and Rodney felt it more than a cussing out from his sister.

"Our?" Rodney asked. "I know Jeannie writes sometimes, and I don't always reply, but last I heard from you was some thank you note when I remembered to send you a Christmas present."

"I was fourteen, already at Caltech, and she still made me write paper thank you notes that winter break!" Then Madison settled into the seat by where they'd set their lunch and sort of smiled. "You sent me Star Wars Legos, which yeah, people in my hall enjoyed that more than the cookies mom sent back with me. She still doesn't understand that desserts are supposed to be sweet."

"Good to know raising you vegetarian didn't entirely ruin your appreciation for food." Rodney sat and took an appreciative bite of Belusian cheese roll.

"I sent you emails from Caltech. I invited you to my graduation last year, but you never replied."

Mouth still half full of roll Rodney answered, "I tend to ignore all the email I get from Caltech. I can't apologize for that. They send me way too much. But I didn't mean to ignore you."

"Oh," Madison finished a bite of salad. "Okay."

It would have been easier if Madison yelled at him so he could yell back. Instead he said, "Do you want a graduation party or something?"

"Please, no. I don't know anyone here. I don't like parties with people I don't know." Madison picked up a roll.

"Stay here. I'll be right back."

#

Madison sat in the empty room with the ocean view, finishing their lunch, and worrying who or what their uncle might bring back. They'd pretty much failed to make friends so far, but that didn't mean they wanted to meet anyone this way. Still, the interaction with their uncle had gone better than expected. Having their emails and graduation invite ignored had hurt more than they wanted to admit at the time, but beyond realizing their uncle worked in another galaxy, they were suddenly both interacting as adults together. While he might be older and have the most impressive job title around, his social skills were about as mixed up as Madison's, which made Madison more optimistic about their own prospects.

The cheese rolls were tasty, and Madison stole one extra from the plate they'd been ordered to make their uncle. At the same time, they pulled out their tablet and found a recently delivered message from Earth. It was, of course, from their mom:

"After all we've done for you, I can't believe you'd skip out on graduation with less than a week's notice!!! You write saying you're already gone to that place we can't name!!! With your uncle!!! Cutting yourself off from all your friends!!! Missing out on the whole grad school experience!!! You'd better write!!! And come home for the holidays!!! And bring your uncle!!! I raised you better than this, Madison!!!"

Some small part of Madison felt a little guilty. Mom had beamed proudly all through their graduation last year, and she'd piled on the balloons, gifts, and a fancy dinner. But mostly mom's use of exclamation points was just too funny. So they were already smiling when the door opened and their uncle rushed in with two plastic wrapped Hostess cupcakes and a bag full of miniature candy bars. "Happy Graduation, Madison," was all he said. Somehow, that seemed perfect this year.

#

By the time Carson had finished breakfast and a quick bath, he was exhausted and slept through the rest of the morning. Ronon brought his lunch with what the doctor suspected were significant additions of fresh produce from the morning market. Then Carson was determined to visit Biro's lab.

MedBot 3 had perfected their process for bracing both the wheelchair and Carson as he seated himself. Then Carson wheeled himself across the room to collect what he needed, but his arms hung heavy over his belongings after that. MedBot 3 pushed his wheelchair down the hall, and Ronon tagged along beside them for reasons Carson could only guess.

"Dr. Biro, I hope I'm not interrupting," Carson greeted as his small entourage entered her lab.

"Should you be out of bed?" Biro asked with just a glance up from her microscope.

"As a doctor, I'd say no," Carson admitted.

"Fine. I'll give you half an hour of catching up on a couple years of Atlantis research, then I'm kicking you out of my lab." She turned to MedBot 1 who had been preparing samples beside her, "Hey, Backup Brain, how about you check in with your counterpart about caring for Carson and wrangling researchers in general."

MedBots 1 and 3 rolled off to a distant corner and chattered in super speed bursts of barely recognizable English. Ronon settled in near the door.

Biro took a seat near Carson at a desk with an Ancient console, a laptop, and an intricate shelf system filled with samples and paper documents. "Look, I'll send you data from all the vaccine and drug trials we've run on local populations and what I've got from SGC on their offworld samples." She started to tap at her laptop. "The ones from Atlantis include Earth populations with call outs for a few relevant gene lines. So far we haven't had any greater issues in sharing medical treatments with Pegasus than Earth populations, but there could be isolated gene lines here we haven't encountered. We can't afford to be responsible for damaging even a small group with our medicine, especially preventative care like vaccines."

"I fully agree."

Her fingers froze in midair and Biro looked Carson in the eyes, "I know."

"Can I see your work on Bad Blood, or whatever the SGC calls it?"

Biro sighed and tapped her desk. "Look, Carson, the rest of this is open to you as a researcher. But you're also a patient. And the only locals in our vaccine trial right now are Ronon and Teyla whose DNA you probably know enough about to identify even in anonymized sample format. Can't you choose something else to work on and trust me with that one?"

Carson glanced at Ronon, who did a good impression of someone who was neither listening nor interested in taking sides. "I need to bring the vaccine to the Network of Healers as soon as we're ready for broader trials. I wasn't the only one dying when people in biohazard suits swooped in to rescue me. Real people are dying of this every day."

"You think I don't know that?" Biro sat up straight but fixed her gaze on the bots across the room rather than on Carson. "Every day, people in Pegasus die who could have been saved in the infirmary here. You know what? There are people on Earth and across the Milky Way dying who could have been saved here as well. This has been true your whole life for any university med lab you worked in. The medical inequality is more obvious with people traveling through Stargates each day. You've decided to work with direct outreach. I've stayed in research, keeping records and writing up all these trials, so we can spin up to speed faster when we find a vaccine for something like Bad Blood. There's also a good chance the Stargate program's going public in the next year or two. I need to dot all the I's and cross all the T's so everything we've found here is licensed and distributed safely and equitably on Earth when the time comes. Most of what I do should benefit whichever populations we can reach. But we can't afford any big mistakes at this point."

The specters of the Hoffan drug and the Iratus Bug virus still loomed over them all. But Carson was legally dead on Earth and had all but disappeared from Atlantis in recent years. He wouldn't be the one answering to the public for mistakes he'd made, which might be better for the program overall. "Tell me what I can do to help." When Biro opened her mouth to protest, Carson preempted her. "You know I can't lie in bed doing nothing. If you give me something I can do out of lab, I'm less likely to bother you here or get into trouble on my own."

"I already sent you years' worth of trial data and preliminary papers. No one else except MedBot 1 has looked though all of that, and they trained with me and may share too many of my biases."

When Biro bit her lip, Carson asked, "What else?"

"I was thinking, if your Network of Healers is advanced enough to oversee their own research protocols, we could share data and supplies and let them oversee their own drug and vaccine trials."

Carson wanted to agree but was skeptical. "So we couldn't be held responsible?"

"We could always be held responsible." Biro narrowed her eyes at him. "We have too much inherent advantage to truly give over responsibility. But that might be a better compromise than keeping them fully independent the way you have."

"The network has accepted donations of supplies from Atlantis and others in the past, and sharing mentors and best practices is the foundation of the network."

"What about sharing kidney dialysis and the artificial liver machine you're going to need for the foreseeable future? I have updated designs and Ancient manufacturing options ready to share with Earth. There we could work with the UN or Doctors Without Borders, but can your network take on that responsibility in Pegasus?"

"Between you, Ronon, and MedBot 3, I may feel like an ambassador to the UN by the time all this is settled."

Ronon grunted, and Carson turned to see the man still standing near the door but surrounded by six small robots.

"What's happening, Ronon?" Carson asked.

"Don't know." Ronon had one hand resting on his blaster and the other within easy reach of the door.

MedBot 3 rolled closer and said, "They wish to train with you. So many came because you didn't want recordings made and shared."

"Not doing anything." Ronon kept his eyes on the small bots but moved his hand a little farther from his blaster.

"CatBots tend not to speak until humans introduce themselves," MedBot 3 explained.

As Ronon began introductions and answered a few questions, MedBot 1 returned to Biro and said, "MedBot 3 has logical cause to check Dr. Jennifer Keller's lab results before and after exposure to the Wraith pathogen to see if the virus that killed off the Wraith might have evolved or partially evolved in her."

MedBot 3 joined them adding, "If so, we could better assess the potential threat to humans with partial Wraith genetics."

Biro smiled at Carson, "Now this is a project I would gladly share with you." She shifted to her Ancient console and said, "I'm sending you all my relevant research from dead Wraith as well as Keller's bloodwork and scans. You still have clearance for all this, and I hear you're back in your old room with access to an Ancient console."

"I am." Carson was starting to realize how tired he already was and how much work he'd already taken on when the door to Biro's lab opened and Rodney stomped in followed by another MedBot.

Unfortunately, Ronon had just pulled out a knife to answer a CatBot's question about what weapons he favored. Rodney froze and demanded, "What are you doing here, and why are you showing the bots how to use knives?"

"Training," was Ronon's only answer, even though he'd been explaining his weaponry to the bots in full sentences.

"You agreed to train bots?" Rodney questioned but didn't pause for a reply. "And you're doing it in Biro's lab. And you're with Carson again, who is also in Biro's lab, despite Srisuk telling me Carson was on bedrest in his room. So I went to the infirmary, then Carson's room, and only ended up here because I ran into this MedBot."

Carson wondered for a moment if Rodney meant that last literally. He'd far too often run down people in the halls while focused on his tablet or other device. Not sure he had the energy to deal with Rodney right now, but feeling some responsibility to drag him away from Biro and possibly Ronon, Carson said, "I was about to head home anyway. Would you like to come with me?"

"Yes, good. I mean, you're supposed to be in your room. I'll push the chair."

Normally, Carson would have given Rodney a lecture about presuming to push someone in a wheelchair without being asked. But he wasn't up to doing it himself and thought MedBot 3 might want to stay with Biro and the other bots for a while. There were quite a few of them in Biro's lab at this point, but he decided she could handle that if he handled Rodney.

"Thanks for all your help," Carson said to Biro as Rodney pulled him backward.

"You too," Biro said with a too amused smile.

Ronon's eyes were tight and his forehead wrinkled as Carson left, but only MedBot 3 followed along to Carson's room.

"Good that you have a bot taking care of you," Rodney said as he plopped down on the couch, leaving Carson's chair on the other side of the small table.

"Would you like some tea?" Carson asked.

"I guess. Do you have any cookies or biscuits?" Leave it to Rodney to ask for more even when he'd just complained at Carson for not resting the way he was supposed to.

"Sorry, anything like that would be hopelessly stale by now."

"We could try dipping them in tea." Rodney gazed toward the kitchen with big eyes.

When Carson made the effort to turn his chair around, he saw MedBot 3 had already put water on to heat and was pulling out mugs. "Are you preparing tea all by yourself?"

Three lights flashed. "Yes, you should rest."

"Thank you, MedBot 3."

"I found a sealed tin of shortbread that has not expired yet, but I do not know how to test for staleness. Should I bring them?" MedBot 3 asked.

"I'm sure Rodney would appreciate that very much," Carson said as he turned back around.

The bot brought the tin directly to Rodney who accepted and opened them without hesitation or thanks. After shoving one in his mouth, Rodney spoke around it, "I'm fine with these. You want to try one?"

What Carson really wanted was a nap. "Maybe later. Was there a reason you were looking for me?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm worried about you." Rodney gestured toward Carson with his shortbread. "You've barely been around since Atlantis returned to Pegasus and then we find you on death's door. I already buried you once, you know."

The downward turn to Rodney's mouth and eyebrows showed real concern, and Carson felt a small pang. "I know, Rodney. I'm sure this is hard for you."

"It is." Then Rodney looked up from his shortbread. "I mean, it's worse for you. I want to help and be a good friend and all that. But you may need to tell me how. You know what I'm like, and you were friends with me before, even if I wasn't very good at it."

"Oh, Rodney." Carson couldn't mind his friend's insensitivity, especially when he set his arrogance aside and let his vulnerable underbelly show. "What's been happening with you lately?"

Fully expecting a list of scientific accomplishments that might put him to sleep, Carson was surprised when Rodney stayed silent. Then MedBot 3 brought them both tea, and Carson knew if he waited his friend would let out whatever was bothering him.

"You know I'm pretty flexible about sex and partners and what I'm willing to do, but I've never been very good at relationships?" Rodney paused as if that was actually a question, so Carson made an encouraging noise before sipping his tea. "It's always kind of confusing, because I've had people want me for my brain, and other people's brains definitely affect how much I want to be with them, well, at least after the hormone fueled dysfunction known as my university years. But I'm older now and hadn't thought anyone was worth the effort for a few years, so when someone really hot with a surprisingly adequate brain showed an interest in me, well, I thought I should just be happy with whatever I could get."

"But now you're not?" Carson asked to keep the conversation moving.

"No, I am. That's the problem. The person I'm with suddenly started acting like our relationship is about more than sex. He spent the night twice in a row, which he'd never done before, even once, and there's so much to like that I didn't even know I was missing. I'm having to rethink all sorts of things about my preferences as a top or a bottom, about dominance or submission, about cuddling and all that." Rodney's reluctance to discuss cuddling as opposed to power dynamics or sexual positions was amusing, but now that Rodney was talking, Carson gave him his undivided attention. "The problem is, I think there may be some consent issues, like maybe mind altering devices, and I don't know if I should tell him or someone in medical. But our relationship isn't exactly public. I know I shouldn't be dumping this on you when you're sick, but you're a doctor and hopefully still my friend, and I did want to check on you and maybe help. I even tried to visit yesterday when I thought the staying over was a fluke, but you were always surrounded by other people. And why is Ronon hanging around you so much?"

Carson ignored that final deflection and asked, "MedBot 3, you understand about confidentiality, right?"

Three lights and the bot said, "Of course, Dr. Carson."

"Please treat my entire conversation with Dr. McKay and anything in the future on this topic as confidential to him and me."

Three lights. "I will. Would you like more tea?"

"No, thank you."

"I would," said Rodney, holding his cup out. MedBot 3 took it to the counter to refill.

"If you don't mind, Rodney, may I ask if we're talking about Sheppard?"

To his credit, Rodney didn't ask how he knew, only, "Does it matter?"

"When you're worried about mind altering devices and he has the strongest ATA expression on Atlantis, I think so."

"Fine, on our last mission, the Terangines asked John to contribute a memory as other elders did." Rodney waved his hands, one still holding a bit of shortbread, and Carson felt himself relax at the familiarity of Rodney ranting. "We all thought it was symbolic, another strange local custom." Carson cringed at that description, but Rodney was oblivious, as usual. "This morning, I figured out what memory they took. They had said it might even be a positive thing for John. And I think it was. It was certainly a positive thing for me. But now I remember something he doesn't, and it's worked out to my advantage." Rodney shifted in his seat, and Carson suspected that his apparent discomfort while sitting gave away part of what had improved from Rodney's perspective. "Aren't I supposed to be too selfish and poorly socialized to worry about this stuff? But it was on an alien planet, and who knows what device they might have used on him. They said they'd only take one, but what if they took more or it has some other effect? But it's John. And it's personal. I don't think he'd want to know. But I don't think he'd want to have forgotten either. And I know I shouldn't be telling you all this, but you can see why I couldn't tell anyone else."

MedBot 3 brought Rodney his new cup of tea, and Rodney took it without comment.

After brief consideration, Carson said, "You should tell Dr. Srisuk."

Rodney's eyes went wide over his tea. "He hates me."

"I doubt that."

Slumping in his chair, Rodney said, "He'll take it differently coming from me. And I'm not sure John would forgive me for telling him."

Occasionally, Rodney showed more interpersonal insight than people expected. While Carson couldn't be sure how Sheppard would react to the rest, he was more likely to forgive anything Rodney confided to Carson. There had been times in the past when Sheppard and Carson had been the only ones sympathetic to or watching out for Rodney. They both knew it and appreciated each other's support. Despite past attitudes and regulations, it had sometimes surprised Carson that the two hadn't hooked up sooner.

"Okay, I'll ask Srisuk about running another scan. I'll have to tell him someone brought concerns to me confidentially, and there may be a time in the future when you have to fess up to John and others."

Rodney looked pained at the thought and gulped down the rest of his tea. Then he nodded around a frown and said, "If you told me to because it was best for John, I'd do almost anything. I trust you not to take advantage of that." For a moment Rodney clenched his fists and looked deeply uncomfortable. Then he lifted the tin and said, "Don't you want even one shortbread?"

#

Madison had decided to turn in early after a long day of dealing with bots, simulations, and very few humans. Having free run of a lab space and a very quiet, probably soundproofed, room of their own was something they'd wished for often while living in a dorm at Caltech and frequently having other students and profs butting into their work. Five days into living on Atlantis, Madison wasn't so sure anymore. Perhaps the rush to bring new personnel along with the urgent medical supplies had bypassed the trainings and mixers that would have at least introduced the new people to each other and a few supervisors. Or perhaps being the first grad student in a new program and having Kusanagi as their advisor was a factor. But Madison had never been good at making friends or networking, and they couldn't really blame others for their own failures in that regard.

A knock on their door surprised them, but they were still in uniform and happy to answer.

"May I come in?" Murderbot stood outside holding a cobbled together motion sensor device like those connected to several Ancient devices in the robot meeting room.

Madison hoped they wouldn't be expected to repair it, but then realized Murderbot almost certainly knew how. So maybe there was some other problem. "Sure, did you need something?"

"Some people relax by playing games at night. Have you checked on Blackbeak since you played earlier?"

"Um," Madison waved an arm loosely at the desk, in case Murderbot wanted to set down the motion sensor device. "Did you want me to hook that up to the Ancient monitor in the wall? Should I try to find another chair?"

Murderbot's body lowered in front of the desk, legs shifting into a triangle and then adjusting to the height of the desk like a chair. The motion was graceful and drew Madison's eye the way a contortionist would. They imagined never needing a chair, being able to rotate and brace adjustable length feet against the bottom of their spine for the perfect support of a triangle. If only the human body were so adaptable.

Rotating easily to face Madison, Murderbot said, "If you set me up to play, I can show you some tricks to let Blackbeak garden and complete shifts on guard duty without you logging in each time. Or we could set up another character and both play simultaneously."

Despite seeing Murderbot transform even before they first officially met, the new triangular structure and casual torso rotation had Madison's mind shifting through design specs and physical changes among human bodies throughout the lifespan. When they realized they'd been staring and probably rude, at least by Earth human standards, Madison said, "Sure, whatever you want." They proceeded to hook up the motion sensor device and watch Murderbot add another hippogriff, named Spot. Together they set up a daily schedule to allow Spot and Blackbeak to complete routine tasks. Either Madison or Murderbot could override the set schedule for both hippogriffs, since they were on the same account and sharing the same nest and farm, at least for now.

A couple hours later, Murderbot zoomed in on a blinking section of the screen. "Look, a new tower appeared. It's an easy flight from our nest. We can explore and put in a claim."

Madison was impressed with the detail of the game and the occasionally quirky interactions they had with other users (presumably Atlantis scientists—more than Madison had managed to meet in real life), but honestly, Madison had never been much of a gamer. The third or fourth time they yawned, Murderbot said, "I know humans need to sleep. I can play almost silently here and improve both of our characters' situations, if you don't mind me staying."

"You wouldn't rather play in the meeting room?" Madison asked, not sure how they felt about sleeping with the BotKin awake and active in the small room. "I don't think the doors here will let you out without me activating them. At least, that's how the transporters seem to be set up."

Murderbot did not rotate to face Madison when responding. "Yes, I would still be here when you woke up. Otherwise, you'd have to come down to the meeting room and leave me logged into your account there."

Madison realized that despite the motion sensor device that let Murderbot give input for the game, Botkin didn't have accounts on the Ancient servers. Murderbot had probably come by tonight because they wanted to play the game, not to spend time with Madison.

Or it could have been both.

Madison tried to ignore the weight like a stone in their stomach.

The new hire materials Madison had received definitely included rules against leaving their account logged in on a public console. Collaboration on a project within the account was fine, and leaving Murderbot logged into the game and science library shouldn't violate any rules. It might be bending a few. But it wasn't fair that Murderbot could only play at a human's convenience. Kicking Murderbot off the game because Madison needed to sleep violated rules of fair play learned over an entire childhood of struggling to build friendships with kids that Madison hadn't understood any better than they now understood Murderbot.

"If that's what you want, I'll see if I can sleep with someone else awake in the room." Madison went to the bathroom to change and then climbed into bed without a word.

The room was surprisingly silent. With their eyes open, Madison could see Murderbot gesturing with the equivalent of fingers, wrists, and forearms to control the game. With their eyes closed, it was like being alone in a very quiet room. Madison was surprised by the nagging impulse but went ahead and said, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Murderbot replied.

That was enough to let Madison settle and fall asleep.

#

"What if we left the city for my birthday?" John was sprawled across Rodney's bed, still clothed, having shown up at Rodney's room for the third night in a row. "We could check out that secluded beach on New Athos, the one with the pink sand."

"You can't just skip out on a party the whole city's been planning." Rodney tried to sound snarky, but all he could think was that he shouldn't take John up on such offers when he might be mentally compromised.

John gave him puppy dog eyes and said, "Come on Rodney. I could make it worth your while." He shimmied his hips in exaggerated parody. "I'd bring supplies to keep us in bed all day, but if we stay here, someone will come looking."

Whatever worry showed on Rodney's face was enough to send John rocketing off the bed. "What's with you? I thought things were going really well. But Dr. Srisuk called me back for a checkup that I swear was even more thorough than what he did after Terangine. Now you're acting all shifty. You know something." John rubbed the back of his neck. "Did you tell Srisuk or did he tell you? He'd say if I was dying and keep me isolated if I was a danger to others. I feel fine, so it must be something I wouldn't notice. Did those bastards on Terangine scramble my brain somehow?"

Rodney froze, mouth open but silent, never at his best under social pressure.

"Shit, were you just keeping an eye on me and figured you might as well get as much sex as possible out of it?" John paced closer to Rodney, forcing him backward. "Were you told not to let me sleep alone or was that your own idea?"

"What? That's ridiculous." Rodney found his voice and his outrage all at once. "You're the one who came here after never wanting to stay the night before. Until two days ago, you walked away after sex each time and kept it strictly separate from anything else we did together. I was just another fancy toy you could light up when you thought about it."

Shaking his head, John backed away again. "Nothing you say can make me believe that. Not since Antarctica, and I won't believe any Ancient device or memory tampering could change fifteen years or wanting something real with you. Now you're saying it wasn't real. Maybe you're the one who should have a thorough check up with Dr. Srisuk. I'm out of here."

"No, John—" But he was gone.

#

Carson was too exhausted to pull himself out of bed and into the wheelchair just to answer a knock at his door. Instead, he thought the door open and called out, "Who's there?" MedBot 3 hurried toward the door, whether to provide hospitality of security, Carson had no idea.

"Ronon," came the answer in a surprisingly soft tone.

"Come in," Carson answered.

A moment later the large man stood at the end of Carson's bed, holding a woven basket full of fruit. "Hope I didn't wake you. Brought these in case you wanted a snack, now or in the morning."

"Thank you," Carson said. "I wasn't sleeping, but I'm not hungry right now. Please help yourself if you'd like a snack, or maybe some tea?"

"You want tea?" Ronon asked.

"No, I was offering it. MedBot 3 has learned how to make tea and is taking care of me quite well." The bot waved a small appendage up and down, but stayed out of the way in the corner they had chosen for their own. Since their visit to Biro's lab, MedBot 3 had plenty of research to work on when not helping Carson. Still, Carson wondered if the bot needed more praise and positive reinforcement for all they did.

"You notice Biro calling the other MedBot 'Backup Brain'?" Ronon asked as he set the fruit on the nightstand.

"I think that was a nickname."

Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, Ronon only said, "Yeah."

Carson took the hint and asked MedBot 3, "Would you like a nickname?"

"It would be a gift." MedBot 3 rolled forward to the end of the bed.

"Do you have one you like or want us to make something up for you?" Carson asked.

"If you make something up, that would be a gift." Three lights blinked.

Carson looked to Ronon. Since he'd brought it up, perhaps he had a name in mind. Ronon met Carson's gaze and then looked to MedBot 3. "On Sateda, there were stories of a mechanical assistant who the spirit of healing created to do physical work in our world. That assistant was called 'Hanso.'"

"Would you like to be called Hanso?" Carson asked.

"I am happy for this gift from both of you. Thank you." Hanso's antennae waved.

"You're very welcome, Hanso," Carson said.

Ronon nodded and asked Carson, "You want me to stay so Hanso can spend some time with Dr. Biro or other bots?"

It was hard to tell in the dim light and with Ronon's lack of expression whether he wanted to stay or was only offering to be helpful.

"Why don't you work that out with Hanso?" Carson leaned back into his pillows and rested his eyes.

Ronon and Hanso discussed times and ways to contact each other as they walked over to the door. Then Ronon returned alone and carefully sat at one corner of Carson's bed. He seemed stiffer than before.

Hoping it would ease some tension in the other man, Carson went ahead and asked, "Was there something you wanted?"

"In the short term, I want to see you are well cared for." Ronon rested a hand on the covers above Carson's ankle.

After a long pause, Carson prompted, "And in the long term?"

"Harder to explain." Ronon's forehead was still tense, but there was an upward tilt at the corners of his mouth.

Carson relaxed at just that hint of a smile. "I'd appreciate if you'd try."

"I had ideas about family and relationships as a child, that don't fit here." Ronon paused long enough that Carson almost prompted him again, but his unflagging attention seemed to be enough. "Even Satedan ideas about what you'd call childhood crushes and marriage, were different. I don't think our ideas of later intimacy and forever family exist in Earth cultures, not many in Pegasus either."

The term "intimacy" was part of the answer Carson had suspected, but the term "forever family" he'd only heard in relation to adopting kids. He was ashamed to admit, he hadn't learned much in that vein as a traveling healer in Pegasus. Mostly he'd focused on expectations and manners around hospitality, conversations, and touching someone in a medical setting. "I'd like to think I'm open minded. But you've lived with Earth people for most of the time we've been in this galaxy. You probably have a better idea of what to explain than I could guess what to ask."

Ronon nodded and took a deep breath. "While surviving to be an elder is admired in most Pegasus communities, Satedan kids weren't raised to hope to live that long. Being an elder was a responsibility, a gift to be given as much as to be had. What we'd hope was to have a forever family around us if we chanced to live that long. That family might include descendants, biological or adopted. With extreme good fortune, one or more spouses might survive along with you." Ronon raised his eyebrows a bit, as if waiting to see if Carson would question someone having multiple spouses at once.

Even the original Carson before Pegasus wouldn't have been surprised by anything Ronon had laid out so far. "All right," Carson said.

Ronon leaned back, supporting himself on straight arms, and Carson wondered if it was only incidental how his muscles flexed and his chest stood out like that. "It was expected that adults would continue building intimate connections with others as they grew older. If they were wise, some of those connections might last forever, becoming as intimate or more so than earlier marriages, which often centered on producing and raising children. It was also believed that elders knew their own needs and with cleverness and opportunity could negotiate whatever sort of relationships might best fulfill their own desires and those of other. There were various ways to recognize such relationships in a forever family, but they were expected to be stable and lasting, to stabilize the broader community as well as those involved."

"In theory, that sounds lovely," Carson said. "Of course, I'm sure there's a slew of historical and cultural details that I couldn't even imagine. Perhaps we could start with what you're hoping for from me?"

Ronon shook his head, and Carson knew he'd failed to understand in some way. Sitting up straighter, Ronon said, "I may be sorely lacking in relationship experience, by Satedan standards or others. I have not yet earned a place as elder and am not very wise. But I could not hope for anything from you. Both in how I feel and in what I choose to do, I care. The feeling is not new, but there was little opportunity before to spend time together, to possibly see what we each had to offer or how we might stabilize each other." Ronon flexed his fingers. "If I cannot explain this, I may not be ready to build such a relationship."

Carson reached out a hand, and Ronon moved a little closer to clasp it. His touch was warm and familiar. Carson realized how much he'd come to depend on that touch in a few short days. "Please, don't give up, even if I may not understand all the way, you've been very good to me. I like the idea of a forever family, even if as a clone, I never hoped to have one."

Ronon's eyes went wide and his mouth opened immediately to protest. "But you do. Don't you see McKay as family? Whatever else he is, he's too stubborn to let you go."

"But that's not—" Carson sputtered unsure of how to complete the sentence. "That's not what I thought you meant by intimate."

"You're more than old enough to decide how to share intimacy with those you choose, but I saw the way McKay sought you out today, and yesterday. I noticed that Sheppard was called to the infirmary for follow up shortly after your visit for dialysis and whatever you call the procedure for your liver. While I would never speak of private business to others, you and I are already distantly connected in what I would call a forever family. You offer intimate counsel to McKay who we all know is intimately connected to Sheppard, and Sheppard by most local standards adopted me after I came to Atlantis."

For a moment, the explanation made Carson feel like Ronon's uncle or even grandfather, which was a bit uncomfortable. Then he forced himself to think outside Earth boxes. Ronon had just proven himself not only more observant than most people gave him credit for, but his explanation fit the way Carson felt about Rodney and Sheppard. He wondered if he could come to think of a Full Bird Colonel as "John," if they were some sort of family. For now, he needed to sort out his feelings for Ronon.

"That helps me understand a bit better, I think. You said before we needed to figure out what each of us had to offer and how we might fit together." When Ronon squeezed his hand, Carson continued. "So far, you've given me a lot, and I'm not in a position to give much back at the moment."

"You saved my life the day we met. Saved each other a few times over since then. Aren't we past keeping track?"

Carson hadn't thought of it that way and knew he needed to bridge the gap between their perspectives. "It's a little different when it's my job or when we're each trying to save the city, but you mentioned how a stabilizing relationship could also stabilize a community. And I'll agree we're long past keeping track. Still, thank you for helping me as you have. I can't tell you how much your words and touch have helped these last few days."

"No one else I'd rather talk to or touch."

Ronon caressed his hand, and Carson's eyes swam. He was overcome but only managed to say, "Really? I never thought you were much of a talker, although I knew you played that up with Woolsey and some others."

"My parents thought I'd be a politician, because I talked and argued so much. Said starting out military was good for that, too."

"I can barely imagine."

Interlacing their fingers, Ronon said very softly, "Being a runner and a refugee changes a person. Not sure I'm even Satedan anymore."

"Can't you be Satedan and something new?"

Ronon coughed out a startled laugh. "Used to dream about founding New Sateda."

"You still could." Carson squeezed his hand, wishing he could give more.

"Only if they let me build it here on Atlantis, with my forever family."

"That's a nice thought." Carson let his mind drift. He was growing tired again. "Then I'd only have to ask your permission to set up a training hospital here for my Network of Healers."

His eyes had already drifted closed when he heard Ronon say, "Let me help you to sleep."

"All right," Carson agreed, not entirely sure but willing to go along with whatever Ronon had in mind.

Very gently, Ronon tucked Carson's hand that he'd been holding under the covers and basically tucked Carson in. But when Carson thought that Ronon was standing up to leave, he instead moved to sit beside Carson at the head of the bed. His fingers gently brushed Carson's hair off of his forehead and stroked back along his scalp.

Carson felt his body melt. While he'd barely been aware of his constant aches while talking to Ronon, the fingertips and blunt nails circling his scalp seemed to leech the pain away. Instead of weighed down, Carson felt like he was floating. If he hadn't been so sick and tired, he suspected he would have felt more, lust or at least bliss. For now, he felt like a pampered housecat. He hummed his pleasure instead of purring and drifted into sleep.

#


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning's office hours quickly devolved into Murderbot and Madison fortifying a nest at the top of the new tower in the Island Empire game. At first there were several CatBots watching, but soon only one remained, probably recording for all the others.

On screen, a gamer with a beetle body type delivered a proclamation that all wishing to dwell in the new tower much present their claim and development plan to the "Elevated Council" by midnight game time.

Before Madison could even ask what the Elevated Council was, Murderbot said, "Write a list of what you'd want in your ideal development plan." Then Murderbot went to a nearby shelf full of devices and came back with an ordinary-looking tablet. Because it was Earth technology, Murderbot could type and use the touch screen the same as a human, having appendages designed to imitate fingers.

Not having any idea what was usually in a development plan, and seeing that Murderbot was searching through various countries' SGA charters, constitutions, and other documents at superhuman speeds, they went with listing what they'd ideally want in a community. Thinking about what they'd liked at Caltech, Madison listed "a good learning environment" and "community trust based on an honor code system". Then they looked up and pasted in a page explaining how the honor code worked at Caltech. They tried to look through other pages about Caltech and then about Canada, where they'd grown up, but nothing else grabbed them on a personal level. Instead, they kept circling back to ideas of acceptance, something they'd found in the student house where they'd lived at Caltech, but that they'd never seen codified. So Madison wrote up their own notes on that and offered it all to Murderbot.

There was a longer pause than Madison could imagine Murderbot needed to read a few scant pages. It was long enough for Madison to wonder if their input had truly been wanted or if the request was just a way to make them feel included so Murderbot could do whatever they wanted in the game. But then Murderbot raised their cameras to meet Madison's eyes. "This is good. It helps to see how you explained it. Will you let me to write it up with the rest?"

Madison blinked but couldn't look away, "Sure, thanks. Let me know if I can help in some other way."

Murderbot nodded and began typing in a frenzy with only a few breaks to look up further references. Not wanting to interrupt, Madison dug into analyzing their previous simulations of Ancient bot code.

When the door to the bots' meeting room burst open, Ronon might have been the last person Madison expected to see. However, Ronon surrounded by a swarm of CatBots was an even stranger sight.

He stopped short upon seeing Madison, then huffed. "What do they mean by office hours?"

Madison caught one glimpse of Ronon's irritated expression and tight posture and could only look down toward his feet. "'They' being the CatBots?"

Ronon opened a palm toward the bots who now swarmed over each other and around his ankles. "That what you call them?"

"I didn't make up the name. I think it was my uncle."

"Figures."

"Anyway," Madison circled back methodically to answer his first question, "My office hours here are ten to eleven each morning, but the bots allow me to be here anytime from 8 AM to 8 PM. When they set that up, I thought it was just so they could train with me or find me each day, not so they could bring other humans in."

Ronon only asked, "Does it keep them from swarming you the rest of the day?"

"Maybe they like you? I haven't drawn that sort of attention." Madison waved to the single CatBot perched on the shelf overlooking their desk.

Ronon stepped closer, peering at the CatBot shelves and then at the detailed tower depiction still filling the Ancient monitor and said, "Is that the tower we cleared yesterday?"

"What?" Madison asked. "It's just part of a video game."

Ronon kept his gaze fixed on the screen. "Went on a final walkthrough with Sheppard yesterday. That's a stonework version of the tower everyone's been inspecting and cleaning to open more housing. It's on the Southwest Pier."

Despite their reflexive desire to argue, Madison asked Murderbot, "Do places in Island Empire map to real places in Atlantis?"

"Yes, sometimes more directly than others." Murderbot kept typing their proposal for the tower. "The game crowdsources ideas to improve Atlantis."

"With hippogriffs?"

Murderbot answered in their flattest tone, "Consider populations that are banned from many other towers and public spaces."

Puzzle pieces assembled like a fire sparking in Madison's mind. It felt like completing a successful simulation in lab and coming home to find a care package waiting at their dorm. "You're writing a proposal for bots to claim a new tower."

"Not claim. There are only 35 of us, and we're not currently permitted to make more. I'm writing a proposal to assure BotKin as well as Pegasus natives, refugees, and families have access."

"Those groups are all excluded from some other areas?" In their mind, they heard LabBot 2 say, "Stating the obvious."

"Mostly," was all Murderbot said.

When Madison tipped her head sideways, trying to fit that answer like a recalcitrant puzzle piece, Ronon said, "Teyla and I were written in as expedition members, along with a few locals who married Earthlings or work as liaisons for Gate teams. Most others aren't allowed in sensitive areas."

Murderbot added, "Refugees and children are restricted to the South and Southwest Piers, both of which BotKin are only allowed to access via limited maintenance ducts and tunnels."

"But the Gate and infirmary are in the Central Tower." Madison had studied the map of where bots could go, which included much of the Central Tower. Clearly they'd need to look up maps of where other groups were allowed in order to be better informed on these issues.

"They need an expedition escort," Murderbot answered. "Some Earthlings never interact with bots or native people. Some don't want to, but many have no reason to cross paths with anyone other than Earthlings."

Even as Madison was wondering what the point of coming to another galaxy was if you were only interacting with people from your home world, they realized their only foray outside the Central Tower had been for one morning market, as suggested by a bot. "Would your proposal let you and me move to the new tower, just like our hippogriffs?"

"Don't get your hopes up. The game generates ideas. The city council on Atlantis is a far cry from the Elevated Council in Island Empire."

Ronon had been standing quietly, listening and watching. Now he asked, "Who sees the game and the proposals?"

"To play you need access to the science library, the one accessed by Ancient devices, not the science server with Earth technology." Murderbot answered. "As an expedition member, you're entitled to an account."

"But the BotKin and most locals are excluded there, too," Madison said.

Neither Murderbot nor Ronon bothered to answer. Madison started making notes in their tablet, a list of maps and regulations to look up.

They were interrupted by Ronon, who turned out to be talking to the CatBots. "You want me to have office hours here or somewhere else? Could we agree that I'll train with you when I'm in the exercise room for my physical training?"

"BotKin are only allowed in exercise rooms by invitation. Every human using the room would have to invite them." Murderbot said without slowing their typing at all.

"I can take care of that. Office hours in exercise room C, 11 AM daily unless I'm busy." Several CatBots waved antennae frantically. "Okay, talk."

"Can we train with you other times if we stay quiet?" Madison spotted the blue stripe and knew that was R2-D2.

Ronon sighed and looked to Madison as if for help.

Madison hadn't realized the CatBots were intentionally keeping quiet until Ronon told them they could talk. The idea offended Madison on a gut level, but the bots had brought Ronon to see Madison and seemed very eager to spend time with him. "Let me guess, you told them no sharing recordings of the training later. That's why you have a swarm. They were probably all talking at once, and you told them to be quiet. What about the MedBot that's helping Carson?"

"Hanso is different. Carson doesn't want my help all the time. I understand that. Hanso is good with him and doesn't record or even talk that much when I'm there."

Madison wondered if MedBot 3 had always had another name or if the name Hanso had come from Ronon or Carson. They said to the CatBots, "When humans get to know each other, they tend to start by interacting for short periods of time." Then they thought better of it and said, "Sorry, that probably sounded really condescending. I know you're eager to learn and maybe make friends. I don't know any more about how that will work with Ronon than you do." Then they intentionally met Ronon's eyes and said, "I think you'd do better working this out with them. They know more about themselves and you know more about yourself than I ever could."

"Sure you're related to McKay?" Ronon asked. The way he grumbled the words didn't sound as fierce to Madison as it had before.

"Trust me, I can be just as stubborn. And opinionated. And right."

Ronon smiled, and Madison understood a bit better why he was actually friends with Uncle Rodney. "Yeah, come eat with us sometime." With a glance around at all the CatBots and Murderbot he suggested, "Maybe we could picnic someplace where bots are allowed."

#

Ronon arrived at Carson's room just as he was finishing his morning physical therapy. His legs trembled as he took a final step toward his bed. His neck hung heavy between his shoulders. He hated to have Ronon see him like this, but knew he'd looked worse a few days before.

The medic who handled most physical therapy on Atlantis was a very young Marine, and Ronon growled at him as Hanso braced Carson to help him sit down on his bed.

The medic handed Carson a damp cloth to wipe his face and said, "I know you’re a doctor, sir, but you need to listen when I say we're done for the day."

"Understood. I apologize. Thank you for coming to my room for this."

"No problem, sir. See you tomorrow." The medic kept his head up but also stayed an arm's length away from Ronon on his way out.

Then Ronon was sitting beside Carson on the bed, placing his hand under Carson's to hold the damp cloth. "Let me."

Despite his embarrassment, it felt amazing to let Ronon wash his face and neck. Carson noticed Ronon's hair was damp and smelled vaguely like coconut. He'd probably just taken a shower. Carson would appreciate a real shower or bath, but he didn't have the energy for anything right now.

He let Ronon guide him back to recline against his pillows. Hanso tucked an extra pillow under Carson's feet and calves, then rolled aside to monitor from their chosen corner. "Okay if I rub your legs? Help the muscles relax?"

"That sounds lovely. I still wish I could do more for you."

Ronon knelt on the bed with his knees on either side of Carson's feet and started by running warm hands around Carson's feet and ankles. In another time and place, Carson would have found the sight arousing. Now all he felt was gratitude as Ronon said, "Keep telling you. I like doing this. Like touching you. Like talking with you."

"What would you like to talk about?" Carson relaxed back into his pillows but felt more awake than before, as Ronon's warm hands worked their way up one calf.

"Whatever. Did you know there's a pretend version of Atlantis on some game in the science library?"

"Are they still playing that? The one with the dragon families and all the courtroom drama?"

Ronon shook his head. "Might be a different one. It has the newest tower we cleared. The players I saw were like the hippogriffs in _Harry Potter_."

"What's _Harry Potter_?" Carson asked, as Ronon rested the foot he'd been massaging against his own thigh and started on Carson's other leg.

"Huh, eight movies, books too. We could watch them if you want. I think a hippogriff is more like a pegasus than a dragon."

"You've picked up a lot of Earth culture." Carson imagined learning new Earth references via Ronon's cultural insights.

"Lived with Earthlings twice as long as I was a runner. Two-thirds as long as I lived on Sateda. But I didn't know about the games or the science library. The movies are on the science server, which is different. But I have a login as part of the expedition."

Carson noted how easily Ronon compared lengths of time, even across a lifetime of visiting different planets with different lengths of days and years. The way Ronon spoke to him when they were alone, he wondered at how much Ronon hid his abilities and how much he was waiting for others to notice. "Same login should work. Mine did. You can try on the console in here." Carson waved at the access in the far corner of his room.

"Maybe later, when you're resting. Anything you'd like to talk about?"

It seemed selfish to want Ronon to talk so Carson could enjoy his touch and his voice, but after their talk the night before, Carson thought Ronon might take it as a compliment. "I'd love to hear more about Sateda, if you don't mind."

"Well, we had libraries, too. But they didn't include games or movies. Librarians saw their responsibility as preserving great works, although the science library included nature samples and machine prototypes along with their documentation. We had a law library, and my parents took me there thinking I might go into politics or be what you'd call a judge someday."

"What would Satedans call a judge?"

"That was part of being a politician. A local elder or leader might be asked to arbitrate a dispute. If that didn't solve it, there were various levels of citizen councils, elder councils, government councils."

"Sounds like quite the bureaucracy."

"More than here on Atlantis, partly because the citizenry were more active and had more say. But it was nothing like your SGC and IOA or all the big Earth governments." Ronon's hands hesitated below Carson's knee. "You mind if I go higher?"

"Go ahead." Overused muscles twitched at first brush, before Ronon pressed a little more firmly. Carson had not personally experienced massage therapy on Earth, but he wondered if it was ever like this. He was pretty sure that if every patient received such treatment after physical therapy, they'd be a lot more likely to stick with their exercise regimens. "You could run for city council here."

"Only one spot for Pegasus locals, and nobody wants to challenge Teyla. People trust her."

"You're part of the expedition. You could run for representative at large. Really, anyone who lives here should be able to run for those."

Ronon only shrugged, working the motion into his hands' movements on Carson's leg.

Carson remembered Hanso telling him there were almost 500 locals living on Atlantis now. But he was pretty sure there were around 2000 expedition members from Earth, so at a glance, Earthlings holding four of five city council seats didn't seem unfair. Then again, they still had Sheppard in charge of the military and Rodney in charge of science, not to mention whoever was in charge of the Gate and contact with Earth. Carson wondered who that was now, but didn't bother to ask. The way Ronon was working his thighs had Carson feeling warm all over. His cock even gave a couple small twitches, but he was nowhere near energetic enough for any such thing.

The way Ronon was kneeling over him in tight leather pants didn't hide the fact that Ronon was at least partially aroused. Carson had to resist the urge to reach out and stroke Ronon, at least on his arm. From what Ronon had said about elders forming relationships, that seemed like something they'd need to discuss first.

When Ronon had worked his way around every muscle in either of Carson's legs, leaving Carson buzzing and barely in any pain at all, Carson found the courage to ask, "Could I massage your scalp, or touch you in some way you'd enjoy?"

Ronon raised his eyebrows. Then he stretched his arms above his head, still kneeling around Carson's feet. Still filling out his leather pants a little more than usual. "There are many ways I'd like you to touch me, but having your fingers in my hair sounds good right now. Reach your hand out to the side a bit, where it would be comfortable for you."

When Carson shifted his hand about a foot out from his body, Ronon gracefully settled beside him, lying sideways with one hand resting at Carson's waist. Propped up on his pillows, Carson could see Ronon's face, meet his eyes, and share a soft smile. Then his fingers slid through curls as soft as that smile, cool and silky, freshly washed as Carson had suspected.

Ronon sighed and his eyes went half-lidded. His fingers at Carson's waist fluttered, but didn't try to reciprocate the touch. By letting himself relax into Carson's touch, Ronon made Carson feel useful and desirable in a way he'd almost forgotten. In that moment he wasn't a doctor, a healer, or Rodney's voice of reason, he was a man falling in love, or something like it. He remembered Ronon saying Satedans felt love just beneath their skin. The way Carson's skin was still buzzing from Ronon's massage, that was easy to imagine.

#

Rodney stomped into the BotKin storeroom carrying an overfull lunch tray. Data had reminded him to eat. But Rodney already knew John was hiding, Ronon was with Carson, and Teyla would take one look at him and want to know what was wrong. So Rodney had made the very logical decision to work through lunch. He had plenty of coffee and power bars in his lab.

Then Data had informed him—through whatever inscrutable CatBot channels—that Madison also needed to eat and wouldn't leave this room. That was intriguing, because Rodney hadn't realized anyone was using this room since the current batch of BotKin had completed their initial training.

And he'd heard it was lava pasta day in the mess hall.

As he charged into the storeroom, Rodney was surprised to see the shelves to one side even more full of parts and random devices than when they were actively assembling and testing new BotKin. He was even more surprised to see two custom-made desks side by side in one corner. Madison sat at one and the only remaining humanoid BotKin at the other. Behind and above the desks were long shelves with a couple of CatBots apparently watching whatever work went on at the two desks.

"Don't expect this to be a regular occurrence. I have much better things to do than bring you lunch." Rodney deposited the heavy tray on an empty corner of Madison's desk then started back across the incredibly large room for a chair he'd spotted that was not in use.

Behind him he heard Madison call out, "Thanks, but you didn't need to bring me anything."

He waited until he'd made his way back and sat down in his chair to say, "Data thought otherwise. Where is that bot? He said he'd be here."

At that, Data came shooting out from beneath a bookcase where the lowest shelf practically skimmed his upper metal plates. Several other CatBots peeked out from underneath, watching him rush across the short space to Rodney. But when Rodney reached to pick up the annoying bot he got a nasty zap of static. It only lasted an instant and didn't stop Rodney from lifting Data to his lap, but it shouldn't have happened.

"Were you working on an electrical fault under there?" Rodney asked. "I know you have resistors in series with your grounding. We've never had static electricity problems before."

Data gave a descending two-tone chime that generally meant "I'm sorry" or "too bad."

But Rodney wasn't letting the little bot off that easy. "Use your words. What are you bots doing down there?"

When Data didn't answer but only waved his antennae in distress, Rodney was shocked. "Are you malfunctioning? Can you talk?"

"I can still talk," Data answered.

"Then answer my question."

"I can't." Data made the apologetic two-tone chime again.

Rodney huffed and set him on Madison's desk. "Then sit there until you explain all you can. I'm going to eat the lunch you insisted I bring for Madison and myself. That plate's for you, Madison." He didn't bother waving at the other side of the tray, because it was obvious what he meant.

Madison took the plate but was focused on Data as the CatBot finally said, "It's a place where CatBots like to go. The charge usually dissipates before any humans touch us."

"But what were you doing down there?" Rodney asked.

"It's private." Data waggled antennae in a way he probably thought was cute, but if Rodney could ignore John's puppy dog eyes—at least sometimes—then he could certainly overcome emotional manipulation from a CatBot.

"If there's an unprotected voltage source down there, that's a safety issue, and I need to know," Rodney argued.

"The voltage is safe for all BotKin and humans. If you take it away, we can create another."

Data inched closer to Rodney, and the scientist knew he needed positive reinforcement for admitting that much. "I'm glad you considered safety at least. Will you share the schematics with me and let me verify by inspection?"

"I need to ask the other CatBots."

Rodney shook his head, but picked Data up again and stroked his back as he said, "I'll wait to hear back, but remember I'm a busy man and as Chief Science Officer I'm responsible for this area."

Data gave three identical beeps to indicate agreement, and Rodney set him back on the ground and watched him hurry back to the other CatBots under the low shelf. He turned to the two CatBots perched above the desks and said, "I don't suppose either of you have information to add or want to be part of that discussion?"

"We will wait here and let the others decide," one said. The other twitched antennae up and down in clear agreement.

By that point Rodney had finished half his lava pasta without even tasting it, which was a pity, since they didn't have that blend of spices all that often. He picked up his coffee and asked Madison, "Did Kusanagi tell you to work down here?"

"No," Madison answered. "She said I could work in CS-3, and I do sometimes. But no one is ever there, and the BotKin wanted me to set up office hours here. Murderbot made our desks."

"Murderbot." Rodney nodded to the humanoid BotKin and rolled his eyes. "Did that start as a joke or did you invent it yourself?"

"I named myself after a fictional character, as many of the CatBots are named." They watched Rodney for a reaction.

He shook his head and said, "Next thing you'll unionize and call yourselves Skynet."

"My namesake is ironic and post-Terminator in the way some fictional characters are post-human."

Rodney set his cup down hard and raised a finger to point at Murderbot. "You haven't been talking to lit majors, have you? If there are any lit majors on Atlantis, we need to get rid of them immediately." He waved his pointed finger at Madison next. "Your dad isn't emailing my bots, is he?"

"My dad wouldn't touch genre fiction like the _Murderbot Diaries_ with a ten-foot pole," Madison scoffed. "The only email he sent was to congratulate me on earning my Master's and being accepted to a fully funded PhD program. He also said not to worry about Mom, that he would take her out to celebrate my graduation without me and try to talk her down." Madison didn't even try to understand how their parents handled such issues. They had each other for that. Waving the pasta on their fork they instead said, "This is good. What is it?"

"I've found it's generally better not to ask for details," Rodney picked up his fork again as he spoke. "We call it lava pasta. I think it came from some people known as Lavapadillins or something ridiculous like that. When we buy crops from the farmers there, the pasta-like parts resemble little potatoes that grow in clusters. But it's all vegetarian and it's good, right?"

Madison hummed agreement with their mouth full.

Then Data rolled out with another CatBot that Rodney quickly identified as JiJi, Kusanagi's favorite. She had a small broomstick, etched like a tattoo behind her antennae.

JiJi and Data detoured to press against some large metal cabinets, presumably to dissipate any extra electrical charge. Then they proceeded to climb up the shelves at one end of Madison's desk until they reached the viewing shelves with the other two CatBots.

Data said, "JiJi has offered to explain."

Sometimes Rodney found the social conventions or BotKin as inscrutable as those of humans, but he knew he had to acknowledge JiJi to get things moving. "Hi JiJi, could you please explain what's going on down there?" He waved a hand back toward where the bots had come from.

"Hello, Dr. McKay. That area is for BotKin socialization. Dr. Kusanagi inspected and approved it. Would you like me to play the complete recording of that training session?" JiJi asked.

"How long is it?"

"23.65 minutes," JiJi answered.

"Could you summarize Kusanagi's findings in under a minute?" Rodney asked.

"Yes," JiJi answered, and then didn't say anything more.

"Not humorous," Rodney offered as training feedback, knowing it wouldn't have much influence on a bot as experienced with humans as JiJi was. Sometimes he was jealous of Kusanagi's unique influence within bot society and others. Mostly he was glad one of his least incompetent minions was handling it. "Please give me the most useful summary you can in under a minute."

"The CatBots initial reward structure was designed to weight touch rewards from humans as approximately ten times more desirable than those from other bots, based partly on skin conductivity. Dr. Kusanagi confirmed that the variable, but consistently safe, voltage source we found made touch rewards from other bots three to five times more desirable, by mimicking human skin conductivity. Each response was still consistently below the reward value for human touch. She allowed us to move the voltage source under that shelf to an area that facilitates CatBot interactions with each other and the power source. At this stage in our training, Dr. Kusanagi declared it a worthwhile experiment in inter-CatBot socialization." JiJi beeped once, high and short, and asked, "Is there other information you would like included in the remaining 23 seconds?"

"No, that's fine. You can go have your fun." Rodney waved the CatBots away, not wanting to interfere any further in something that was clearly part of Kusanagi's project. He set to finishing his lunch. But while JiJi returned to the under-shelf space, Data came around and bumped gently against Rodney's feet. "What, you want my attention instead?"

Data played a cheerful five tone scale, and Rodney settled him on his lap and petted with one hand as he ate.

#

As soon as Data and Uncle Rodney left, Murderbot asked the CatBots on the shelf behind them, "Do CatBots want privacy?"

"I don't," Pluto answered.

"Some trainings I have shared suggest humans can react negatively to seeing CatBots receiving long periods of touch reinforcement." R2-D2 continued, "For me, the positive outweighs the negative when receiving touch from a human, but in some situations involving only bots, I would arrange to touch in private."

"Should I offer you more touch?" Madison asked when nothing further was said.

R2-D2 waved his antennae side to side. "I enjoy human touch. My observations show you do not touch humans or bots very often. My projections suggest you do not find touch significantly rewarding. I do not need touch to enjoy my training time with you. I am happy to interact conversationally or to observe from this shelf."

Madison had spent a lifetime managing and learning to compensate for their issues involving touch with humans. Nonetheless, they took a deep breath and decided to start over again with the BotKin. "I have some aversion to touch, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy it. With humans, it helps if I know the person and know when to expect touch or if I can initiate it myself. I think most of that would be the same with BotKin. If you'd like to help me with an experiment, I could try holding you on my lap the way Dr. McKay was holding Data."

"I would like to help with that experiment," R2-D2 agreed. So Madison picked him up and settled him on their lap. They tried petting the way their uncle had done and found the CatBot's metal surprisingly smooth and warm.

"Do you like this?" Madison asked.

R2-D2 burbled excitedly and then said, "Yes. Do you?'

"Yeah," Madison said, "But maybe just for a little while, and probably not when I'm focused on work."

Then Murderbot surprised Madison by saying, "Pluto, you are not rewarded as much for BotKin touch, and I do not have intrinsic rewards for touch at all. But I would like to try a similar experiment if you are willing."

"Yes," Pluto said.

Murderbot lifted Pluto to their lap and tried petting with the same motion and rhythm Madison was using. After a couple repetitions, the motion evened out and showed the same dexterity Madison had come to associate with many of Murderbot's movements.

For a couple of minutes, they sat in near silence. R2-D2 occasionally made a short two-tone burble that was obviously positive. Pluto flopped and waved his antennae for a similar affect. Then Madison asked Murderbot, "Can you tell me what this is like for you?"

Murderbot's triangular face tilted up. "The tactile experience is different. I have made this motion previously to experience texture, but not repeatedly to pet someone or something. Deriving correlations between my touch and Pluto's non-verbal reactions is a bit like playing a stimulus-response computer game. Knowing that Pluto receives some reward for my actions provides a very small amount of reward to me for doing something useful. But there are greater rewards based on other aspects of my training. I may carry a secondary reward structure because half of my initial training came from Data."

"Was Data one of the initial four CatBots trained by my uncle?"

"Yes, and Dr. McKay personally selected him for my training." Murderbot added, "I also trained extensively with Dr. Kusanagi who appears to enjoy petting JiJi and commented that it helped her concentration sometimes. I have positive associations with that and other instances of touch that I have seen or read about."

It occurred to Madison that their uncle's interactions with Data had probably been quite different from how he treated LabBot 1. Reflecting that he treated Madison differently from other humans on Atlantis gave Madison a sense of camaraderie with the CatBots. But that left them wondering about the other BotKin's experiences.

"So you can enjoy touch?" Madison felt pleased but also a bit uncomfortable with the idea. They already had trouble judging which of Murderbot's reactions might be classified as authentic verses reproductions based on training. Every piece of experience that Murderbot described involved training and rewards. But large portions of anyone's personal experience were based on positive and negative associations, which were essentially training with rewards systems.

"I think I enjoy it, but not the same way a CatBot or you would enjoy it," Murderbot answered, still petting Pluto

"Even if humans start out with similar nerve endings and touch receptors, I don't think any two humans experience touch the same way." Madison wasn't sure how much to say. "I'm not too close to the center of the human bell curve on that, and I have no idea how I'd compare myself to you or a CatBot."

"We can train together to learn more. I enjoy the learning part. Don't you?"

Improbable as it was to watch Murderbot petting Pluto while Madison petted R2-D2 and awkwardly discussed their feelings, the answer was obvious. "Yes."

#

That afternoon, hooked up to the kidney dialysis machine and bioartificial liver, Carson finally felt awake enough to be bored. He was alone in a private room with Hanso, but the bot was scrolling through treatment information Srisuk had asked him to review. Given the scrolling speed, it was an impressive amount of reading material.

When Hanso finished Carson asked, "What was all that Dr. Srisuk left you?"

"Khun Somchai included the operations manual for the dialysis machine and documentation from all research to date on the bioartificial liver in case I am needed to help with either."

Knowing home dialysis was common on Earth, although more so in Britain than the US, Carson wondered if Dr. Srisuk was considering moving both machines to Carson's room at some point. It would be more convenient, so long as no one else on Atlantis needed such treatment. Carson wondered if his overall health or concerns about his mental health made Srisuk wait to discuss that option with him. Then he realized Hanso hadn't referred to Dr. Srisuk by his usual title. "Why did you call Dr. Srisuk by a different title and his first name?"

"You call me Hanso now. Once, Dr. Srisuk said that people in Thailand would refer to him as Khun Somchai and he missed hearing it. Like a nickname, it is a gift I give Khun Somchai."

There was a quick knock before the door opened to reveal the man himself accompanied by Dr. Biro. "Do you feel up for visitors and possibly some work conversation?"

"Of course," Carson said. As the two entered he added, "Hello, Dr. Biro. And please tell me, Dr. Srisuk, would you prefer to be addressed as Khun Somchai?"

"I do like it, although mostly the bots and those with more international Earth experience use it here. I have spent much of my career answering to the western version, and I am honestly fine with that as well. I hope that when we are not interacting as doctor and patient, you will come to call me Pla, as my friends do." Srisuk smiled as if they'd all missed some joke at his own expense.

"Pla?" Carson asked.

"In Thai it literally means fish. MedBot 3 could share with you the entire conversation I had with a BotKin once about Thai naming conventions. In brief, many people where I grew up shared common names or had very long names, so nicknames were common."

"Ronon gave MedBot 3 the nickname Hanso, based on a Satedan story involving a mechanical assistant to the spirit of healing," Carson volunteered.

Hanso flashed three lights but stayed quiet.

"Yet in all the years we worked together, you never called me by my first name," Dr. Biro said.

While Carson must have seen Biro's first name on paperwork at some point, he honestly couldn't remember it. "I was challenged at one point about calling a nurse by her first name when she and others called me Dr. Beckett. It probably didn't help that I called the military medics by their last names, as most everyone does around here. I guess I've fallen back on formality since then, unless I'm certain someone prefers a different name. Do you?" He didn't mention how many people had distanced themselves when he returned as a clone, and that went way beyond how they addressed him. It had been one of the hardest times in Carson's life.

"Doesn't matter to me," Biro said. "I never cared for my given name and have gotten used to Biro around here. All the jokes about the pens make it feel like a nickname anyway. But that's not what I came to talk with you about. I'm ready to propose a clinical trial of the Bad Blood vaccine in Pegasus."

"Excellent," Carson said, wanting to jump up from the bed, but mindful of the tubes in his arm and his general exhaustion. "I don't suppose I'll be cleared to help with that anytime soon?"

"I would like you to look over her proposal," Dr. Srisuk said. Carson tried to substitute "Khun Somchai" in his mind and thought it might take some time, but he'd make the effort.

"And I want to take you up on making a video," Biro added. "The medical center they took you from on Lo Seco sounds relatively advanced from what I've heard. McKay may have stepped on some toes, but if we bring a video showing how much you've improved and with you offering whatever explanations or assurances you feel appropriate, that should go a long way toward establishing rapport and opening the way for fully informed participation."

"I will do my best once I've reviewed your notes. But I thought you hated going offworld?"

"I never wanted a place on an away team or to fight the Wraith. But I've been to isolated med centers on Earth. How different can this be?" Carson's doubts must have shown on his face, because Biro added, "And I'll be with Teyla and her team, of course. I don't plan to do their jobs or yours, but I know how to test a vaccine and set up a clinical trial."

"And if you can halt the virus in someone as far gone as I was? What will you do without all this?" Carson waved to the machines currently keeping him alive and some others that had helping upon his arrival.

"There are protocols for bringing cooperative locals back to Atlantis if they would die without immediate medical assistance." Biro's eyes shifted between Carson and Khun Somchai as she said it. Those protocols were intended for battle injuries, not chronic conditions, but none of them wanted to argue.

Carson's voice came out softer than planned when he said, "Then we might need to bring a local healer back, too, since we wouldn't have a written medical history. Besides, they would need special training to handle aftercare when the patient was ready for release."

"Anyone in particular you'd recommend?" Biro asked.

"Any healer on Lo Seco working with such a patient should be a fine candidate. While Healer Tan Po who helped me is very skilled, he's also a bit volatile." As he mentioned the healer who had kept him alive at the end, Carson realized he didn't know if Tan Po was the man's first, last, or only name. He'd been keeping himself distant from others in more ways than he'd realized. "He would probably be better suited to staying behind to oversee the center while one of his associates trained here, if there's a choice."

"Got it," Biro smiled while Somchai stood nervously to one side. It did feel a bit like they were entering into a conspiracy.

After Biro left, Somchai stayed to complete a regular checkup. After testing Carson's eyes he said, "I think your vision has stabilized, at least for now. I brought these glasses for you to try." He pulled a black case from his medical coat pocket. "We can get you separate reading glasses if needed."

When Carson slipped the glasses on, he sighed as the boring white medical room became an extremely clean and shiny but still boring white medical room. The smile lines around Somchai's eyes were good to see though. Carson said, "I distributed plenty of fluid-filled, adjustable glasses around Pegasus, and yet I forgot what a gift clear vision can be."

"Hope that offsets the less pleasant matter I want to discuss with you."

Now Carson focused on the wrinkles at Somchai's brow. "Go ahead."

"I'm not sure who your confidential information came from, and I'm certainly not asking." Somchai raised a hand palm out and continued, "Colonel Sheppard was not pleased about being called in for follow up scans. Not that the results were worrying, but he mumbled about Dr. McKay being a paranoid bastard at one point. I didn't acknowledge hearing that, and only assured the Colonel that follow up at intervals after any implied cognitive event was a standard precaution. Then, despite a lack of tangible results, Sheppard started talking about a return mission to Terangine. I advised against it and said he'd need to discuss the issue with someone in mental health, at a minimum."

"I can't imagine that went over well." Carson grimaced picturing it.

Somchai tilted his head to one side and raised both eyebrows. "He disappeared the moment I turned my back and hasn't responded to follow up messages."

"You think I should try to talk to him." Carson puzzled again over his connections to Sheppard and Ronon's explanation of forever families.

"I hoped he might be among those coming to visit you anyway." Somchai made a point of checking the read outs for Carson's vitals and current blood work.

"Not so far, but I'll keep it in mind."

"At the very least, he has to show up for his big birthday bash tomorrow." Somchai did not sound excited at the prospect.

"Is this something I should know about?"

Somchai shrugged but said, "Someone decided the Colonel's 50th birthday should be a holiday for most of the expedition. We're running holiday shifts, and there are all sorts of activities planned on the South Pier. You could stop by if you feel up to it. Might be good for you to get outside, reconnect."

Hanso flashed three lights, and Somchai nodded in the bot's direction.

Carson nodded along, even as he wondered who imagined Sheppard would welcome such a large and public celebration of his 50th birthday.

#

It was nearly midnight when Rodney finally found John. The Colonel hadn't only been avoiding Rodney, he'd been ignoring messages and even radio calls all day. Lieutenant Colonel Lorne and the latest IOA appointed Expedition Leader, Luca Cirillo, had come to Rodney, assuming the scientist would have some way of tracking down their errant military commander. Rodney had scoffed and said it was their own fault for pestering the man about birthday plans. In truth, while Rodney had tinkered with such tracking algorithms in the past, Ancient safety protocols and John's own protests had eventually defeated every attempt. It was only by monitoring life signs all over the city, and watching for those that seemed out of place as the hours grew later, that Rodney discovered where John had been hiding all day.

In hindsight, it should have been easy for the genius to guess. Atlantis' favorite flyboy was on the top floor of the shiniest, newly refurbished, soon to be open for occupancy, residential tower on the Southwest Pier. When Rodney walked in, John was leaning against a window wall in the common area. With the flawless crystalline material that Atlantis precision lit for transparency, the Colonel's signature slouch looked like the first stage of a fall into space. Or at least into a twenty-story drop.

John also looked jaw droppingly gorgeous. It wasn't fair. Rodney knew every crow's foot and laugh line on John's face, every scar on his body. But framed by the night sky with only one moon's light on their current planet, John looked as young and fit as the day he sat down in the Antarctic control chair. He shrugged one shoulder at Rodney's entrance, as if there was nothing between them at all.

Suddenly Rodney was shot through with cold terror. What if John's memory loss had escalated? What if he'd been ignoring messages all day because he'd forgotten his job?

"Are you okay?" Rodney asked way too fast.

"Shouldn't you be telling me? Whatever you told Srisuk got me called in for an hour of testing. Then he told me to see a therapist rather than head back to Terangine to ask questions there."

"Thank god." Rodney forced a deep breath. "I thought maybe you were off comms because you'd forgotten all of us."

"What the—Rodney, you're probably panicking over nothing anyway." John's posture tensed as he crossed his arms and turned his back to the view. "Did you think about how whatever accusations you made would sound? How they could affect my position as the expedition's military commander or even as the leader of an active Gate team? I hate being blindsided by doctors. If you think I've forgotten something, I should be the first person you talk to about it."

Rodney stood frozen halfway across the room, his fear and his anger fighting to control his hands, his voice. In the end his arms flailed desperately, hands shaking, but his voice came out harsh and snarky. "Just talk to you? When one wrong word—or at least one wrong sentence—means you never let me close or that you give up on us again? Are you going to hold this against Carson, too? And why weren't you answering calls from Lorne and Cirillo? They've both been after me to find you."

John tugged at his ear, seeming more concerned about disappointing Lorne and Cirillo than about the panic slowly freezing Rodney from his gut outward. "I had my radio set to alert me in case of emergencies. And what does Carson have to do with any of this?"

"Carson is the only one I spoke to. I didn't know how to broach the subject with you, so I went to Carson for advice."

That caused John to deflate a bit. "And Carson told Srisuk?"

Rodney gave a broken half nod. "He couldn't have told him much. I didn't give any details. But you can't blame me for worrying about you after no one noticed my brain being destroyed by the Second Childhood for who knows how many days."

Sheppard sighed but refused to acknowledge that emotional plea. "What is it you think I forgot? Something you wanted me to do? Not an anniversary, I never could remember those, and I've had enough grief for it."

"No, nothing like that."

"What then?"

"Do you know why you never stayed the night before?"

John shook his head and dug fingers into his scalp as if it hurt, leaving his hair even more ridiculous than usual. Rodney could smell the scent of sandalwood from the conditioner John used. He'd probably been tugging at his hair all day. "You're mad because we had fantastic sex and I stayed the night a couple of times?"

"No!" Rodney's frozen body finally gave out on him. The penthouse living room was empty of furniture but had a warm springy floor that Rodney collapsed to sit on. Leaning his elbows forward onto his knees, he said, "I thought all you wanted from me was casual sex. In all the times we'd been together, I told myself to be happy with what I could get for as long as it lasted. It wasn't even your sudden change in behavior that clued me in. That could have been a stress response or something. But you'd forgotten the first time we had sex in a bed, my bed. You'd said 'of course not' like you'd never in a million years consider staying the night with me. When I brought it up after your sudden shift in behavior, you said it never happened, that I'd dreamed it up."

After several long, silent breaths, John came and sat cross-legged in front of Rodney on the floor of the moonlit room. "Okay, I remember you mentioning that the morning after Terangine. Can you tell me you're a hundred percent sure your memory is right on this? Because I have no other way to know if I've lost a part of my mind. If we're the only ones who could know, we both need to be sure about this."

"I have a chart." Before John could protest, Rodney shouted, "IN CODE. My own coded words within my own encrypted files. I was keeping track of what you liked. Being a genius helps with sex, but so does methodical record keeping. I didn't encode our precise words, but I have the date and that you left the moment I asked if you'd stay. For six days after that you acted as if there was nothing between us. So I never asked again. I thought that was how you wanted our relationship to work."

John's shoulders slumped, and he looked at Rodney with big sad eyes that would totally never work on the jaded scientist—not from anyone but John. "I suck at relationships."

Desperate to change the mood, Rodney said, "But I like it when you suck."

"That's so juvenile." John swatted Rodney's knee. "You call yourself a genius?"

"I have documentation to prove that, too." Rodney pressed his knee firmly into John's hold.

"Do you think I've forgotten anything else?" John asked, falling back to seriousness.

"I could quiz you on every mission and sexual encounter, if you want."

"Assuming either of us wants to sleep in the next week, you can probably set up a computer program to randomly quiz me on past missions, within reason. Given the one memory you're sure I forgot, why don't you quiz me on the personal stuff while we have some privacy. I'll give you a tour of the new housing units while you're at it." Then John stood and offered Rodney a hand up.

They wandered hand in hand through suites of rooms that filled an entire floor of the new tower. The transporter had opened on a shared living room, spacious and high-ceilinged with an excellent view by any standards. To one side was a reasonable kitchen with Ancient cooking and cleaning appliances, all polished to a high shine, probably by some military grunts John was punishing or whatever they called that in military-speak.

Rodney asked, "Do you remember the first time we hooked up?"

"Hand jobs after that trade mission where you fell off a dock and had to walk back to the Gate with wet pants clinging to your gorgeous ass." John gave said ass a light slap.

"One, I was pushed. Two, it chafed."

"I wanted to fuck your ass so bad."

"Then why'd you wait so long?"

John rubbed at the back of his neck and didn't answer as they wandered through the first of four suites with entrances spaced evenly around the common area. "I wasn't sure you were really into guys. I mean, you clearly got off on what we did together, but you always talked about women. Some bi guys don't want to catch."

"Pan not bi, and I wanted you in me from our first day on Atlantis."

"Not before?"

"I didn't want that to be a one-time thing." Rodney hesitated to say the rest. "Turns out I wanted you to stay afterward as well, but it took me time to realize."

"I wanted that, too. I can't believe one miscommunication kept us circling for so long. Ask me some more recent stuff, after the night I don't remember."

By the fourth suite, it was clear they were identical. Each had a large master bedroom with a bed large enough to share, unlike the original dwelling units they'd found on Atlantis. There were repositionable nightstands, Ancient consoles, and adaptive windows that could shift from clear to tinted to completely opaque.

"Do you remember how many times you let me fuck you?"

John bit his lip and practically counted on his fingers. It was typically both adorable and pathetic. "Four. I could name the missions, and they were all pretty bad. I can see how that would seem like I was using you to get out of my head, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't have wanted you other times. You never came to my place or asked."

"The couple times I let my hand brush your cock while watching movies, you shifted away. I thought you wanted to call the shots." In his own mind Rodney admitted he didn't handle even small rejections well, but he didn't need to say that. John clearly remembered the four times he'd let Rodney inside him. If John had only lost one memory, even if that had made such a difference, they were still going to have to sort through a lot of issues from before.

Each suite also included a smaller room, that could be used as an extra bedroom or an office, and a bathroom with a truly impressive walk in bathing unit. As they entered the last unit's bathroom, John pointed at the shower with a square jacuzzi-style tub set into the floor and said, "Have you seen anything like this elsewhere on Atlantis?"

"Not really," Rodney admitted.

"Want me to show you how it works?" John's tone was flirtatious, and Rodney could admit the adrenaline from their confrontation had turned to arousal as they'd compared notes on sex.

Rodney looked around for towels or other shower supplies.

"Trust me," John said.

The way he said it, Rodney had no doubt they both remembered Project Arcturus and the few times since when either of them had uttered those words. Helpless to disagree, he nodded.

Then John slowly lowered the zipper on Rodney's black uniform jacket, running his fingers along the tight shirt underneath as he said, "I remember the first time you blew me. It may have been in a closet, but it was the best blow job of my life. That's why I take you back there so often when we're set free from the infirmary. Just walking by that door makes me want your mouth."

John kissed him, which honestly, they hadn't done much before. But Rodney let John's tongue enter instinctively. He could barely keep track of how John removed both their jackets and started on their pants, with the way John's tongue was tracing his teeth, exploring the roof of his mouth, and sliding along his own tongue.

But when John pressed against him, both of their cocks free and hard. Rodney had to pull back and breathe. He was panting and couldn't help thrusting his hips.

John somehow pulled both their shirts over their heads and got his own pants and boots off before stepping down into the tub and saying, "Join me when you're naked."

For a minute, all Rodney could do was stare as John stood naked and proud in all his glory while two showerheads rained down tiny droplets, making him wet and shiny all over.

John's expression turned a little serious as he said, "You know, the times I remember you standing in a daze with your pants around your ankles were usually when I was leaving after a quickie. While I can't deny that's still hot, I like it better when you're about to join me."

That broke the spell and Rodney managed to toe his shoes off and step out of his pants with only the usual amount of flailing. At least he didn't fall down.

When he stepped under the spray of warm water, John pulled him in tight. Now their cocks were pressed together and slippery. John's hands slid up and down Rodney's wet back and ass and Rodney's hands followed suit along John's body. When John started nibbling at his neck, Rodney groaned and started thrusting with intent. John wrapped a hand around both their cocks, giving Rodney even more friction. In just a few minutes, Rodney was coming, and John followed him over the edge.

They stayed pressed together, caught up in the afterglow until Rodney noticed they were standing knee deep in hot water.

"Um," he said intelligently as he waved one hand toward the water.

"Not done with you yet," John said. "Not by a long shot." Then he turned Rodney so his back was to John's front and pulled him down into the water. It smelled slightly floral, like gardenias but lighter, even though the shower water has only smelled clean, without even a hint of salt or minerals.

Sitting on John's lap in a rapidly filling jacuzzi tub, Rodney listened as John started to speak right by his ear, barely audible above the filling water. "I hope that list of yours includes the time I made you come solely by playing with your nipples. We were sitting about like this in a jumper. Best test flight ever."

John's fingers circled Rodney's nipples as he said it, and the scientist found himself just on the right side of over sensitive. The water rushing around them both distracted from and added to the effect. It didn't surprise Rodney that John remembered that fondly. Jumper sex and Rodney's nipples were near the top of his list for John's favorite things.

"And that time you put some vibrating ball inside me before you let me fuck you." One of John's hands drifted down to cup Rodney's balls and slide a finger behind. His wrist teased Rodney's cock as he said, "I kept trying to think the vibrations off or slower because I assumed it was Ancient tech. Whenever I'd thrust into you it seemed to tickle my prostate, and I didn't know how I'd hold on until I could get you to come, too."

"I thought you hated that." Rodney remembered John bitching about it all through that encounter, but Rodney couldn't find the remote to turn the toy off until John stopped pounding him.

John slid a finger up and down, not quite breaching Rodney's hole as he said, "Well, it was a bit disconcerting at the time. But afterward I wanted to borrow it so I could masturbate while remembering."

"So you like the toy but only if you control it."

John nipped at Rodney's ear for that comment. "Now that I know what to expect, I wouldn't mind you using it on me again. You could make me do calisthenics or a kata with it in while you watched."

"You'd do that?"

"I've jacked off imagining it." John's second hand slid from Rodney's nipples to gently pump his cock. Rodney was going to protest that he couldn't get hard again so soon. Then he felt himself firming up. By that time the tub was full. The hot water reached Rodney's shoulders and made him buoyant enough for John to shift beneath him, aligning John's cock with the cleft of Rodney's ass. "It would be a pity if I lost any other memories of my times with you, because they're pretty much all I think of when I'm flying solo."

Rodney wanted to know what about the first time they had sex in a bed put John off staying over. Was it because he felt out of control or because Rodney had put the question into words? It would only spoil the mood to ask, and he already knew John didn't remember. Instead he chided, "That sounds much dirtier when a pilot says it."

"I get hard when I'm pulling gees, too. And in microgravity for long periods of time, the blood tends to pool."

"Zero gee sex is a physics nightmare."

"Just a two-body problem," John breached Rodney with a fingertip as he said it, but it felt like more. "Wish we had some lube in here."

"If we lived in a place like this, we'd have to keep some beside the shampoo."

"You remember the time I fucked you using conditioner for lube." John stroked Rodney's growing erection and wiggled the tip of his finger, but didn't try to press any further in.

"I thought that was hair gel."

"Naw, leave in conditioner."

"You and your crazy hair."

John rubbed his hair across Rodney's neck and cheek. "I can remember several times you enjoyed grabbing my hair. Want me to list them?"

Just those words had Rodney remembering. "I'm ready to believe you only lost the one memory, and I guess it wasn't a good one for you. So maybe the Terangines weren't so bad after all."

"I still want to go back and ask them how exactly it works." John's hands went still.

Rodney shivered despite the warm water. "Seriously? What if they demand another memory from you? Or from me? I'm the other one who counts as an elder on that team, according to them and to Ronon."

"Way to spoil the mood." John's hands started stroking along Rodney's thighs instead of where they'd been moments before, but it still felt surprisingly good. And distracting.

"If you really want to know about that night, I'll tell you everything I remember."

"Do you remember it as good?" John asked, voice softer and hands gentling even as they traced up Rodney's inner thighs to the creases where legs met groin.

"Until you left. I still think a bed is the most comfortable place for intercourse, but yeah, you rode me hard and I was flying on endorphins. I thought you liked it, too."

"I can't image not liking it with you. That's why I'm sorry I don't remember."

Rodney reached a wet hand back to tug at John's hair. "The two nights after we came back from Terangine were better by far. I'd give up my memory of the night you first left to have even one of the nights you stayed."

"Wanna take me home and let me pound you into your mattress?"

"God, yes," Rodney said, turning his head and pulling John in for a filthy wet kiss. He noticed the water draining around them as they kissed but was surprised when warm air blew at them from multiple angles. John pulled him up but kept on kissing with their bodies a few inches apart as the Ancient bathing unit dried them off.

#

When Madison's eyelids drifted open, the sight of Murderbot gesturing at the motion sensor device didn't startle them. In only two days, this had become a normal morning. "Any word on our proposal?"

Murderbot's movements didn't slow or hesitate as they answered, "Nothing yet from the Elevated Council, but all sorts of other opinions. Love it or hate it, our proposal generated twice as much discussion as any other. Two offers for coalition building so far. And many humans haven't had time to read through all the proposals. They total 268,523 words." The vocal tone was dry, but the speed of delivery suggested excitement.

"Good job. I need to pee." Madison rolled to the side of the bed, rubbing grit from their eyes.

"You might hear more about this in person, at the party. Try to puzzle out who the players involved or on the Elevated Council might be in real life."

Madison made it to the bathroom but left the door open a crack to make it easier to talk. "Do I have time to read the other proposals? Will it help us to know the real people? I have no training at spy stuff. I can't even network at parties, you know?"

"Any new data is helpful. I have typed up notes on your tablet. If you wear a radio I can listen."

As Madison peed and then washed and then brushed teeth, they thought for the millionth time how many annoying tasks could be avoided with a robot body. "Would you want to go to this party if you could?"

"Not if I had the option of listening and observing otherwise," Murderbot answered, "but I will be limited by where you go and who you interact with even if you wear a radio."

Madison frowned into the mirror. "I don't want to go."

"Will it be more interesting for you with game objectives? You can count a point for every mention you hear of our proposal."

Madison trudged back into the bedroom, shoulders slumped, wondering if they needed to find party clothes or could show up in their science uniform. "Can't hurt. But you have to show up for the picnic if that works out. I'll try for tonight on top of the tower where our hippogriffs first nested, since bots are allowed there in real life."-

Without shifting from their "seated" configuration by the monitor, Murderbot mimicked the slump of Madison's shoulders and said, "I will even set up the snacks and seating for humans. Should I wear party clothes, too?"

Madison was holding up the most colorful top they had brought. It contained two shades of blue in a batik pattern. "Do you have any?"

"I'll see what I can find."

#

When Rodney turned his head, trying to burrow deeper into his pillow, he ended up with a face full or soft but tickling hair. It smelled like sweat and sandalwood and didn't require opening his eyes or any higher brain functions to identify. Breathing in deep, he almost fell back asleep.

"Let's stay in bed all day," John mumbled without moving.

That sounded wonderful. It took the sleepy genius two seconds to understand what John was really saying. "You can't hide from your own birthday party."

"Pretty sure I could."

"You wouldn't do that to Lorne."

John hummed a thinking noise and rubbed his hair against Rodney's neck.

"You wouldn't do that to Teyla."

The semi-sentient hair assault ended abruptly with John sitting up. "Sad but true. Shower sex? For my birthday?"

"My shower will never measure up after last night."

"Maybe we can measure something else."

Rodney swatted ineffectually at his corny bedpartner until his hand was grabbed to yank him out of bed. "Easy, that hand is mission essential."

"Yep, in the shower."

Having no objection to that mission assignment, Rodney let himself be led under a spray of water that was instantly the right temperature, even if it came from only one showerhead and didn't fill a jacuzzi at their feet. He didn't even have to open his eyes. John started slathering Rodney with body wash that smelled like moss and kiwifruit, spending plenty of time on his chest and nipples before spreading the lather south for a few glorious strokes. Rodney groaned. Then John pressed up against him and rubbed until his front was as slick and soapy as Rodney's.

"Since this is probably the one day no one would dare object to anything I do, what would you say to making our relationship a bit more official?" John asked.

Rodney's eyes sprang open. "You are not proposing while rubbing off on me in the shower."

"No." John barked his donkey laugh, but Rodney couldn't complain because soapy hands circled his ass and traced his crack as John said, "If I so much as hold your hand in public, I'm pretty sure someone will win a betting pool that must be worth thousands by this point."

"More because you're allergic to PDAs than because no one knows we hook up."

John poked a finger in his hole and wiggled it obnoxiously, but with their cocks still rubbing together, it felt fine. "Holding hands shows it's a relationship, not just hooking up. Wouldn't it entertain you to watch some people's reactions?"

"I could wear my 'Astrophysicists Do It with a Big Bang' shirt?"

John slid his finger in deeper. "Where did you get that?"

Rodney forced his hand between their bodies so he could wrap it around both their cocks. "Same place I get most of my stupid tee shirts, science staff gift exchanges. I'll probably make someone very happy by wearing it. If they're still on Atlantis. I have no idea who gave me that one."

"Sounds like you've got a chance to prove your big bang theory with your mission essential hands."

Rodney swatted John on his wet ass and then proved all that and more.

#

Madison had been to the morning market on the South Pier once, and they hadn't made it outside since.

Today, the South Pier had a decidedly more lived in feel than anyplace in the central tower. Now that they took the time to look around, there seemed to be gardens, greenhouses, parks, or recreation areas between almost all the buildings. Some walls were decorated with murals that looked nothing like the Ancients' geometric designs (although many of them weren't reminiscent of Earth art so far as Madison knew it either). A few balls and Frisbees were being tossed or kicked among groups, from adults down to kids Madison had thought too young to handle balls at all. There was more leather clothing on display than Madison was used to, as well as bright cloth displayed as clothing, curtains, and table cloths.

Almost no one was in uniform, and Madison was amused to have the brightest shirt they owned serve as camouflage. So long as they kept to the fringes, focusing on their somewhat genuine interest in art or plants, it wasn't too overwhelming. People were still arriving, greeting those they knew, and sometimes helping with preparations.

Many of the buildings had decorated tables and chairs placed in front, some still being carried out from inside. The parks were decorated with paper, cloth, or carved fruits and vegetables placed out on trays. Overall, there were amazing amounts of food set out to share, with smells from spicy and enticing to sickly sweet and syrupy. Madison only took something where everyone passing by seemed to. That left them holding an apple and a doughy item like a donut hole that was almost as large as their apple.

As far as Madison could tell, the Colonel's fiftieth birthday party consisted of hundreds of people wandering around chatting and eating. If Madison were better at remembering faces, they could probably have learned a lot from who interacted with whom. But that had never been one of their strengths. Nothing specifically marked it as a birthday party. So far, there was no sign of the Colonel or his team, and Murderbot wasn't commenting over the channel they'd set up. Madison hadn't found anyone discussing Island Empire or the latest in game proposals either.

Not knowing anyone, Madison wandered around watching and listening, too constantly distracted to even try counting anything.

#

By the time John and Rodney made it to the party, the South Pier was crawling with everyone who hadn't been forced to cover essential positions during the newly minted holiday. They strolled along holding hands, and Rodney kept John moving forward no matter who tried to derail them into conversation. He was determined to get John to the end of the pier before anyone spoiled his surprise. So they collected a swarm of well-wishers who tagged along in order to converse with John or just to keep the birthday boy in sight.

Teyla gave Rodney a knowing smile as she slid through the crowd and said to John, "I suppose this is what your people call 'making an entrance.'"

"I think this is more 'letting McKay have his way.'"

Teyla nodded toward their clasped hands. "Glad to see it."

A cluster of Marines with a hacky sack called out, "Happy Birthday, sir," without dropping the sack. Almost no one was more than half in uniform, and Rodney hoped that meant there would be no saluting or standing at attention.

Torren ran up to John with all the enthusiasm of a twelve-year-old and none of his mother's grace shouting, "I saved this for you!"

He handed John a round ball of sweet dough covered in coarse sugar, for which John thanked him and patted his shoulder. Then to Rodney's surprise, Torren gave the one in his other hand to Rodney.

Rodney sputtered, "But it's not my birthday."

Torren smiled, suddenly looking much more like his mother and said, "You like sweets even more than I do, so I saved one for you as well. Don't worry, I already had one and a half!"

With that Torren was off, and Rodney ignored John's other well-wishers as he savored the New Athosian version of a donut. If only one of the tables they passed turned out to have coffee, it would be his favorite breakfast in a long time.

Sadly, no coffee appeared, but Rodney and John had both finished their snacks before they neared the end of the South Pier and John stopped in his tracks saying, "Is that what I think it is?"

Zelenka, Kusanagi, and most of the remaining physical science staff that had been with Atlantis since the early years stood crowded to one side of a newly unveiled wheel that spanned twenty yards above the pier and twenty yards below.

"It wasn't safe to build any higher out here, and I figured we already have great views from the towers," Rodney said, loud and clear, for anyone to hear. "It turned out the Ancients had some sort of observation room beneath the end of this pier. We just had to rig up scrapers to clean the once clear crystal so you could see underwater on the lower half of the Ferris wheel's rotation."

"You built me a Ferris wheel, a half underwater Ferris wheel. I bet no one on Earth has done that."

"Of course not. It's a McKay original."

Zelenka coughed very loudly.

"And a gift from the science division in general, since all these other people wanted to put in their ideas as well." Various science staff waved or shouted their own birthday greetings.

"Best birthday present ever. Thank you all." John smiled and seemed to make eye contact with each of Rodney's minions that had come out for the presentation. Only John squeezing his hand tight kept Rodney from demanding more personal attention.

"Care for the first ride?" Zelenka opened the door to one ski lift style capsule at ground level and motioned both John and Rodney on board.

They took their seats and a drumming performance started up. Evidently the ride had live musical accompaniment for this day. As the naquadah-powered motor kicked in, the seat beneath them vibrated before they even started to circle. John leaned in close to where only Rodney could hear and said, "Imagine if I'd put that vibrating ball inside of you for all of my party."

Rodney opened his mouth to protest just as their seat dipped down into the aquarium style room with a view of fish and bubbles under the pier.

"This is so cool! You really are the best," John smiled the way Rodney knew meant something real as his head swiveled side to side, not wanting to miss a thing as they rose above the pier.

Rodney decided not to tell John right away that they'd etched a metal sign proclaiming the new Ferris wheel the "50/50" in honor of John's 50th birthday.

#

Carson let Ronon push his wheelchair down the pier. His new glasses brought every decoration and smiling face into picture-perfect view, and Carson wanted to embrace the new vibrancy of Atlantis that he saw all around. But after reviewing Biro's final reports on expected vaccine efficacy and safety and making the requested video that morning, Carson was already tired.

He was tired of being tired. It was his own bloody fault for letting himself get so sick, and being an all-around failure as a healer in the process. Now he wanted to do what he could for Ronon, and it had become clear that Ronon wasn't leaving for the party on the pier until Carson was ready. Luckily, everyone seemed to be moving toward the end of the pier as they arrived, so they moved easily with the flow of traffic.

The large wheel at the end of the pier was new to Carson. From a distance it reminded him of a waterwheel. Up close it became evident that the bottom half of its rotation was still dry, passing through some sort of walled off area under the pier. Carson arrived in time to see Sheppard step off the Ferris wheel, holding Rodney's hand as he individually thanked a line of other science staff.

Behind Sheppard's back, Torren and other young people, including some of the younger military from Earth, were clamoring for turns to ride.

Ronon parked Carson's wheelchair to one side, by a small park with a raised platform and large shade canopy. The five members of the city council were already waiting on stage. Only Lorne and Teyla remained from the original city council that had formed shortly after their return to Pegasus. Whoever the IOA had plugged in as head of the expedition held one seat, and Ronon identified the new man as Cirillo. Biro was a surprise. She was probably the current science representative. "Who's the representative at large?" Carson asked.

"Khoza. Archeologist. He's not bad." That was all Ronon said before Rodney dragged Sheppard onto the stage and a crowd started to form in earnest.

#

Rodney had not intended to be on stage for the ceremony. As far as the scientist was concerned, his part ended with the unveiling of the Ferris wheel. But John now had a death grip on his hand, and Rodney was beginning to wonder if holding hands was a demonstration of their relationship or a way to force Rodney to suffer through whatever formalities John had to. Maybe they were one and the same.

"Colonel Sheppard," the latest IOA stooge welcomed, and the crowd grew quiet. "Happy Birthday, and thank you for giving us all a fine excuse for a holiday."

"Uh, thanks." John fell into his usual cool kid slouch and finally released Rodney's hand. Rodney tried to flee the stage, but Teyla pulled him in beside her.

Cirillo continued, "I believe it would be standard to offer you a key to the city on such an occasion, but it seems you brought that with you fifteen years ago with the first expedition to Atlantis. So instead, we thank you for inspiring our latest infrastructure improvement." He raised a hand to the still spinning Ferris wheel and a few audience members laughed. The people currently riding the Ferris wheel waved.

Then Teyla stepped forward, and Rodney didn't want to face her wrath if he took off while she was speaking, so he stayed and watched.

"As one of the first in this galaxy to meet Colonel Sheppard and others from Earth, I am honored to be here today." Teyla's softer voice carried in a way Cirillo's never could. Sometimes Rodney forgot that this teammate was raised to lead people, to speak to a crowd. "It has not always been easy. At times, I wondered if reclaiming the legacy of the Ancients, as you called them, would be good or bad for my people and the rest of Pegasus. But today we live without the Wraith."

A huge cheer rose from the audience, and it wasn't only from Pegasus natives.

"However that came to pass in the end," Teyla said, "I believe what we have accomplished together has, on balance, been positive. Going forward, I believe we have a chance to share what we have learned on Atlantis across this galaxy and the Milky Way as well." Her smile and nod were slight before she continued, "Now my teammate Ronon Dex will make a presentation."

#

"Be right back," Ronon told Carson as he made his way to the stage in five long steps. He wasted no time and went to stand directly in front of Sheppard, pretty much ignoring the council and everyone watching. "John Sheppard." The pause after his name had Sheppard looking bewildered, and he straightened from his habitual slouch. Ronon's voice was as serious as Carson had ever heard it as he continued. "You have been my teammate, task master, and become forever family. I honor you today as an elder of my family and of Sateda."

Through some sleight of hand, perhaps the same way he'd produced knives from his hair when it was longer, Ronon brought forward a strip of black leather, about the same width as the wristband Sheppard wore on the right. Ronon fastened it above Sheppard's watch on his left wrist. "You have the right to mark this on your skin, but the tattoo or this armguard are not what matter."

It was only then that Carson realized the armguard was covered in a pattern of triangles, different from the pattern tattooed on Ronon's left arm, but now covering the same skin. Ronon was also dressed entirely in smooth black leather today, and Carson wondered if that was Ronon's way of dressing up for the occasion. Sheppard was the only other person on stage wearing all black, as the rest had chosen more colorful attire for the celebration. Those colors became a backdrop to the solemn, quiet moment between Sheppard and Ronon.

Finally, Ronon gripped Sheppard's arm around the newly fastened leather, practically forcing Sheppard to match the grip around Ronon's tattooed forearm.

"Thanks," was all Sheppard said, but the serious way he studied Ronon's face said a lot more. Between this display and the way he'd been holding Rodney's hand before, Carson suspected the Colonel would hit his limit for public displays well before the party ended.

Luckily, the other council members on stage didn't seem inclined to give speeches after Ronon stepped away. Someone signaled the nearby drummers to start playing, and the party spread out along the pier.

Ronon returned and asked Carson as casually as anything, "You wanna talk to Sheppard or find some water and shade?"

"I wouldn't mind staying close and seeing if now is a good time to speak with Sheppard or the others."

So Ronon wheeled the chair over to where people were leaving the stage. Teyla was the first to approach Carson and say, "You look well. The sunlight suits you."

"It is nice to be outside again," Carson answered.

As a young person edged shyly closer Rodney said, "Have you met my sister's spawn?"

"Madison?" Carson asked in disbelief, remembering a few times when Rodney had boasted about his clever little niece, even if he thought his sister was throwing her life away as a stay at home mother.

"Yes, Madison Miller. My pronouns are they and them."

Madison held out a hand but could barely meet his eyes. Carson wasn't sure if she—they were uncomfortable with the wheelchair or eye contact in general. He shook their hand and said, "Carson Beckett. I'm very pleased to meet you. May I ask how old you are now?"

"Eighteen. I'm working on my PhD with Dr. Kusanagi."

While Carson didn't want to ignore Rodney or all the others chatting around them, he didn't know when he'd have another chance to speak with Madison, and he was captivated. "Aye, Rodney bragged about your intelligence back when you were still a wee thing. How do you like living on Atlantis?"

Madison blushed, the same way Rodney used to. "I've only been here six days, but the BotKin and Ancient tech are very nice."

Carson grabbed at the chance to connect with this shy young person who reminded him so much of his good friend. "There's been a very helpful bot assisting me the last few days. Their name is MedBot 3, but Ronon nicknamed them Hanso. They seem to like that. I don't know why Hanso didn't come with us to the party."

"BotKin aren't allowed in most outside or public areas," Madison said with obvious regret in their voice,

"Really, why is that?"

Rodney butted in saying, "They make some people nervous. It's stupid and inefficient, but Cirillo made it a condition for the new BotKin trials."

Carson didn't miss how Cirillo had been hovering, perhaps to introduce himself to Carson, until then, but now backed away from the wrath of McKay. The archeologist from the city council, took a step forward instead. "Perhaps it's time for the council to reconsider those limitations. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Dr. Khoza, with the archeology department."

The man was tall and very dark skinned, wearing a deep green long-sleeved shirt with no other ornamentation. His hair was shaved short and his hands were fieldwork rough as he shook hands with both Carson and Madison.

Madison asked, "Does the council here review proposals for things like that? And who will be allowed access to the new tower?"

"Let me guess, you've already been introduced to the game 'Island Empire.'" Dr. Khoza smiled like a consummate politician and even managed to make eye contact with Madison. "I'm afraid we're not nearly as mysterious or formal as the Elevated Council in the game. There's an electronic form to add items to our agenda, but mostly people just send us messages or stop us in the hall, same as anyone else on Atlantis. I have been reading through the proposals for the new tower in Island Empire. One even borrowed from section 16 of the South African constitution, on freedom of expression. I'm not one to argue whether my birth country's constitution is the best in the world, but it's good to see representation. Especially when I know I'm the only person from South Africa serving on Atlantis as present, and I didn't write that proposal."

"Did you write one of the others?" Madison asked, and from the slight pause before they spoke, Carson wondered exactly what prompted the question.

Khoza looked like he might be wondering too, but smiled and said. "I'll freely admit I play the game, but I'd like to keep some anonymity there at least. Otherwise I'll have people cornering me in virtual hallways to talk about city council matters on the real Atlantis."

"Would you consider letting the real tower have its own governing council to offer a separation of powers from the city council?" The determination with which Madison pursued the subject had even Rodney paying close attention.

Khoza was still listening, but the way he softened his voice and leaned down suggested he was humoring a child. "Well, we don't exactly have a coalition forming around hippogriffs here. But those games have served as think tanks to address issues on Atlantis before. If you care so much, I'd be happy to read a real world proposal based on whatever you take away from the in game discussions."

Madison only nodded, looking a bit overwhelmed by the encounter. Khoza stood up and stepped aside to speak with someone else, possibly also recognizing that Madison needed some space.

Rodney's only comment was, "Not too useless, for an archeologist. Maybe I should write something asking for a room in that tower. Think you can work me into your proposal, Madison?"

They started to shake their head, and then stopped. Again Carson wondered what prompted the change. "Come to my picnic tonight, and we can discuss it. Your whole team and anyone else you want is invited." Then Madison turned to Carson with none of their hesitation from before, "You and MedBot 3, or Hanso, are definitely invited. A bot that I game with is setting it all up for dinner tonight, in the roof garden on top of that tower on the Southwest Pier." Madison pointed to the tallest building on the nearest pier. "It's one of the few outdoor places where BotKin are allowed, and I'm told it's a prime spot for picnics."

"Thank you," Carson said. "I'd be delighted to come if I'm feeling up to it by then."

#

At any previous party, Madison would have made their excuses about when Carson did and left. They'd had enough of people and noise. Talking to a city council member, someone new and possibly important, was too much. Madison didn't think they'd handled it very well, although Murderbot said it sounded fine over the radio.

Mostly Madison stayed to collect intel for Murderbot. Away from their uncle and his team, almost no one knew Madison, so they were practically invisible. Trying snacks from different tables offered an easy excuse to drift from place to place and linger, eating very slowly.

At one point, Murderbot picked up on the phrase " _in favorem libertatis" over their radio connection. It evidently meant_ "in favor of the liberty of the people" and was another piece they'd borrowed from the South African Constitution, among other places. Madison drifted nearer. It turned out the people discussing it were linguists trying to guess who might have written Murderbot's proposal.

"If Daniel Jackson were on Atlantis, I'd believe it was his work. But if it's not us, and Khoza swears it's not him, I think it must be a collaboration of authors, at least one of them not American." The darker haired linguist said this while filling a cup with some frothy green drink that Madison was afraid to try.

Madison picked out berries one by one from a bowl at the other end of the same table, and listened as the lighter-haired linguist replied, "The proposal in list format might have come from a Belusian, if any of them have access to the game. Our translation program always reformats their phrases into lists like that, and the emphasis on caring for refugees matches their previous known writings."

"The top proposal also borrowed ideas from Belusian works already available on our servers," the one now sporting a green froth mustache said.

Madison hid their laugh by biting into a large purple berry as the other linguist continued, "Anyone drawing from that many sources would be foolish not to feature other factions known to be playing the game. I'm surprised they didn't pander to Kusanagi. I think she's everyone's top guess for creating the game, and almost certainly part if not all of the Elevated Council."

"She's too smart to fall for cheap pandering. Anyway, I side with those who believe she only adds new features but never interferes directly in the game." After finishing the drink and wiping off the green mustache, that linguist shifted discussion to some project involving visual languages. Madison didn't understand half of what they referred to and faded back into the crowd.

There was only one conversation of interest later, when Madison overheard the scientist with a ponytail who'd been rude to her and MedBot 3 the first time Madison had invited a bot back to their room. He was saying, "I like the references to _Polystate_ and other Functional Overlapping Competing Jurisdictions, but using that to merge legal structures from different species' home realms sounds way too complex. The discussion of first, second, and third generation rights is like saying we should give everything to any refugee any of these species claims in some sort of family. I'd rather keep my game time away from current politics and focus work time on what we learn from Atlantis and Ancient tech."

The group he was talking to nodded along, but when none of them had anything to add, the conversation drifted to badmouthing Disney and Star Wars spin-off shows.

Madison was relieved when Murderbot finally agreed they weren't learning much more. After co-authoring a message to invite Kusanagi to the picnic, that left a couple hours for Madison to hide in their silent and very familiar room. Murderbot wasn't even there, as they were busy setting up the picnic, as promised.

#

Rodney didn't remember agreeing to attend Madison's picnic. In fact, he'd had quite enough of socializing for one day. While no one, not even John, had noticed his efforts, Rodney had tried not to interrupt, argue, or insult people. Nine out of ten times, he'd succeeded in keeping his mouth shut. The problem was people only noticed the one time in each ten that he failed, out of literally hundreds of times when he kept his thoughts to himself.

Now he was thoroughly wrung out and didn't think he could manage better than seven out of ten. Maybe only six.

He had come back to his room to change before dinner and flopped face first onto his bed. John, on the other hand, must have changed and put away the small gifts he'd been handed with remarkable speed, because he came knocking on Rodney's door before the scientist had generated enough energy to stand back up. "Come in," Rodney called as he thought the door open.

John waited for the door to shut before saying, "Now isn't that a tempting sight. But we're supposed to attend a picnic."

"Grrrr," Rodney grumbled into the sheets.

"You tired, or just grumpy?" John sat down on the bed and started petting Rodney's ass the way other people petted cats.

Helpless to resist John's touch, Rodney said, "I've used up all my being polite. If I go to that picnic, I promise I'm going to say something we'll both regret."

"I have an idea." John squeezed one butt cheek. "Where's that vibrating ball toy?"

"No, no, no." Rodney sputtered. "I thought you were kidding on the Ferris wheel. There is no way I could walk around in public with that inside me. I'd be hard and leaking in no time."

"I'm not going to use it on you in public. Ever since I thought of it this morning I've been imagining it in you. Let me use it on you now, and I'll get you off before the picnic. We might be late, but at least you'll be relaxed and happy."

"Sex cannot cure an attitude like mine."

"I like your attitude. I want to try this anyway, and it means you don't have to go to the picnic right away. So we both get what we want."

Rodney had to admire that reasoning. Besides, it was John's birthday. "The toy's in my sock drawer. It's traditional."

John gave his ass a quick slap before fetching the toy.

Before Rodney thought through the possibilities, John had him spread out on his back, half naked, lubed, and with the toy inside. John switched it on, and Rodney shuddered instantly. Even if they'd only been holding hands, John had held part of Rodney's attention all day. From making their relationship public to a couple of lewd whispers like the one on the Ferris wheel, Rodney had been dealing with constantly simmering arousal.

Now it rose to a boil very fast, and Rodney demanded, "Get this shirt off and do something!"

"I am doing something." John was standing at the end of the bed fully clothed holding the controller for the toy. He pushed the button, and the vibrations ramped up a notch and pulsed on and off in one second bursts. Rodney rocked his hip, shifting with the vibrations and trying to get more sensation on his sweet spot. His cock was almost fully erect and jutting up into empty air as John said, "I'm really enjoying watching this." Then he clicked the button again, creating long pulses that made Rodney desperate for friction.

Rodney rocked and panted until his body grew used to the new pattern. He didn't mind putting on a show for John, but being watched and not touched wasn't really his thing. "I'm humoring you, because it's your birthday. But there will be a point, soon, where I'm going to take matters into my own hands.

"Just two more settings. If you don't touch yourself by then, I'll suck you off."

The thought was almost enough to make Rodney come. "I'm not great at waiting."

"I know," John said. He pushed the button and the pattern changed to three seconds of strong vibration alternating with three seconds of calmer, but still very noticeable, vibrations. Rodney bucked so hard it kind of hurt his back. Then he managed to grind his ass against the bed in little circles that interacted perfectly with the rhythm of the toy inside. He was really pleased with himself for keeping that rhythm when it changed again. John had switched the setting to a constant stimulation on the toy's highest level.

"John," was all Rodney could say.

Then a naked body was kneeling between his legs. Rodney had no idea when John had stripped or even that he'd closed his eyes and missed something. But Rodney's eyes sprang open to the amazing sight of naked John lowering his mouth to lick a long stripe up Rodney's cock.

Rodney practically screamed. His cock had never felt so full. Every nerve ending, inside and out screamed for more as John swirled his tongue around the crown. Teasing. John was teasing. Rodney moaned and tried to push up higher.

With a hand on each hip, John held him down. The vibration inside wasn't right on Rodney's sweet spot, but it was now steady and vibrating hard enough to carry through Rodney's muscles, even his bones. John must feel it through both hip bones and cock. Wasn't that a thought.

Rodney's head tipped back and he whined.

Finally, slowly, John started to suck in earnest. He had Rodney pinned firmly, so he couldn't speed things along. But Rodney was so close to coming already that his vision was whiting out. He was panting, head thrown back, every muscle in his body tensed. Then he came hard, without warning, vision strobing in and out like a light show.

John sucked him through it, drawing out every last sensation. Rodney hadn't noticed when the vibrator shut off, but it felt huge to his over-sensitized body as John pulled it out by its string.

Then John collapsed beside him, and Rodney's hand reached out on its own volition. He must be a genius, because with no more than two brain cells firing, he found John's cock. Now it was John's turn to moan. If Rodney's half-conscious state meant he fumbled or took a little longer than usual, that was only fair after the way John had teased him. Still, when John came, he shot out spurt after spurt and Rodney milked him through it with practiced ease.

They lay together panting until John said, "We need to shower before the picnic."

"I don't think I'll ever move again," Rodney protested. But he got up to shower anyway.

#

When Ronon pushed Carson's chair into the roof garden for Madison's picnic, Hanso rolled right beside him. Luckily, the long buffet table and round dinner tables were set up on hard pavers at the center of the roof, accessible by several solid paths that wound between patches of greenery, small trees, and flowers. Strands of tiny LED lights on copper-colored wire decorated the bushes and tables, even though the tower offered adequate rooftop lighting.

Carson's group seemed to be the first guests to arrive, as Madison and a tall bot were still adjusting the drape of a tablecloth. While in for dialysis, Carson had persuaded the nurse working the holiday shift to trade him two tins of cookies for a bottle of wine he'd had stored away in his room. Hanso dutifully carried the cookies to Madison as Carson said, "Thank you for inviting us to your picnic."

Ronon grunted his agreement.

"Thank you," Madison said mostly to Carson, and then to Hanso asked, "Should I call you Hanso now, or is that a private nickname?"

"I prefer Hanso, for now."

"All right, Hanso." Three lights flashed in recognition.

A more humanoid BotKin than Carson had ever seen came around the two round tables set up like a figure eight. "My name is Murderbot. My pronouns are they and them."

The bot held out something very much like a metal hand, and despite their jarring name, Carson managed to shake and say, "Pleased to meet you, Murderbot. I'm Carson Beckett."

"Please help yourself," Murderbot said motioning toward the main table. "We have plenty of food, and Madison refuses to eat until other humans do."

There was a ridiculous amount of food, and while Carson's poor health still interfered with his appetite, Ronon was always happier when Carson ate. And Ronon was always hungry.

"Would you mind making me a plate?" Carson asked Ronon.

Ronon clasped Carson's shoulder and grunted.

Surprisingly, when Ronon parked Carson's wheelchair at the nearest round table, Murderbot sat down in an adjacent chair to keep him company. Hanso settled in the space on his other side and raised their head to conversation height.

A string of lights that hung loose like a necklace around Murderbot's neck blinked. When Hanso blinked two lights back, Murderbot's necklace blinked again and they asked Hanso, "Would you like party clothes, too? The strands decorating the tables are party favors you can wear as you want."

Hanso began constructing their own necklace as Murderbot turned to Carson. "It is good to meet you, Dr. Beckett," Murderbot began. "My early training came indirectly from Drs. McKay and Biro, who both referred to you often."

"I'm not sure I want to know what they had to say," Carson joked.

"Compared to what they said about others, is was 86 percent more positive." Murderbot tilted their head and shifted one shoulder, seeming to indicate the humor was intentional.

Carson chuckled. "That may not be saying much in McKay's case."

"Agreed."

To keep the conversation going, Carson said, "I was pleased to see this garden had so much room for wheelchairs and wheeled bots. But I think you're the first BotKin I've met without wheels. May I ask about your comfort with other terrain or any accessibility challenges you face on Atlantis?"

"I was engineered to accommodate human-centric designs. I can also reconfigure into a four legged stance or form a stable fixed base when desired. I could incorporate wheels if I had reason to, but so far the CatBots are the only residents of Atlantis with physical access to more spaces than I have, and that's mostly due to their small size."

"You reconfigure. That's remarkable." Carson thought it would be rude to ask for a demonstration, but wondered what to ask next. "You behave more like a human than any other BotKin I've met. Are there more like you?"

"The only other failed early in our development" Murderbot's low tone sounded sad to Carson, but their voice rose higher and faster to add, "My continued success and approval for another build could lead to others who share aspects of my design and/or training."

At that point Madison sat down beside Murderbot and Ronon took the seat on the other side of Hanso, placing a plate with too much food directly in front of Carson. Although, to be fair, Ronon's own plate was nearly overflowing.

Madison immediately turned away from her food to speak to Murderbot, eyes blinking rapidly but fixed on the bots cameras. "I never asked. I can't believe I didn't realize. I've been talking about them as failed code, a mysterious problem to correct in simulation. But the other bot was like you?"

"Physically identical. We were dubbed MultiBots, a name I no longer use," Murderbot answered. "However, while we were both trained by first generation BotKin originating from Dr. Biro and Dr. McKay, they were trained by MedBot 1 and LabBot 1. I was trained by MedBot 1 and Data, one of the earliest CatBots."

While Madison sat wide-eyed and stunned, for reasons Carson could only partially infer, Rodney and John joined them, both looking pleased and relaxed. And perhaps a little rumpled. Rodney had traded his earlier physics tee shirt for a dark gray one reading, "Avoid Negativity, F(x)=|x|."

"Did someone mention, Data?" Rodney asked. "Oh, Murderbot and MedBot 3 are here. Hi. Were all the bots invited? Look at all that food. I'm starved."

As Rodney took off for the buffet, John stopped to say, "Hi, everyone. Anything I can grab for you while I'm up?"

"We just started," Madison said after visibly calming themselves. "There's beer in a cooler over there if you want it. The bots took care of that since evidently I still count as underage on Atlantis even if the military and locals have different rules."

John nodded. "That's very thoughtful of you. And the bots," he added as an afterthought.

Madison looked directly between John and Ronon as they asked, "Would you like us to invite Data or any of the other bots? They all know those here can't share whatever they learn tonight."

"It sounds sad when you put it like that," John said.

"I assume you're familiar with the training protocols and the opt-in requirements?" Madison asked.

"Yeah," John rubbed the back of his neck. "But maybe Khoza was right about needing to revisit some of that."

"Yes!" Rodney said from the other side of the buffet. "But never mind me. Should I get you some food too, John, since you're so busy being social again?"

John shook his head, but he was smiling. "I'll get my own food. Not like you won't steal it, and this guy, too." He nudged Ronon. "Maybe we should sit at the other table." Then he said to Madison, "Whoever you want to invite is fine."

Ronon nodded and grunted his assent.

Hanso, now wearing a string of lights like a thin sparkly scarf, rolled over to a vent beside a stairwell and conveyed some sort of echoing message downward before rolling back to Carson's side.

While both John and Rodney were busy with the food, Dr. Kusanagi showed up along with Teyla, Kanaan, and Torren. "I hope we're not late," Teyla said.

"Just in time," John answered. "Rodney's making his bid to grab all the tater tots."

"Tots!" Torren yelled, and ran for the food like a child half his age, or maybe just like a growing pre-teen should. Carson had been around plenty of kids, but as a healer, he'd barely noticed the ones that weren't sick.

"Are you all okay with BotKin participating in the picnic?" Madison asked.

"Certainly," Teyla answered. "Thank you for inviting us."

"I baked this in honor of Colonel Sheppard's birthday," Kanaan said as he held out a round cake with chocolate frosting. "Is there someplace I should put it?"

"You bake?" John asked.

"You have chocolate?" Rodney asked almost simultaneously.

They both stood with heaping plates ogling the cake as Kanaan made room for it at one end of the buffet. "There are community cook outs and recipe sharing among South and Southwest Pier residents every week. The Earth scientist who taught this chocolate decadence cake recipe helped me with ingredients when I said who it was for."

"Another reason to move into the new penthouse." Rodney insisted, as if it were part of an ongoing conversation. "It has a kitchen. We'd just need housemates who could cook. Want to relocate, Kanaan? The suites in the new building have amazing jacuzzi/shower/sauna units."

Kanaan's mouth formed a silent "o" and Teyla took over. "While we appreciate the invitation, we are well settled with our current dwelling and neighbors."

"I can bake and make candy," Madison said.

"You can? How do I not know this?" Rodney asked.

Madison answered back with an expansive list of things he would know if he paid attention to family at all.

Rodney managed to listen without interrupting and then handed Madison a Belusian cheese roll from his plate. They ate it immediately with a smile, which seemed as good as an apology given and accepted between the two of them.

Meanwhile, Ronon had stopped eating and was looking at Carson oddly. Carson set down his silverware, giving Ronon his full attention, but received only silent raised eyebrows. "Is there something I should know about the new tower opening up?"

"Might be convenient," was all Ronon said.

Not wanting to interrogate Ronon further in public, Carson turned to Madison and Rodney, who generally seemed willing to list details at length. "What else should I know about the new housing opening up?"

Rodney described the layout of each floor with four suites, shared common area, and several bath, kitchen, and window features that Carson doubted he would ever need.

Madison said, "There are balconies and greenhouses built in that were designed for bot access and cultivation, as were all the tower's vents and maintenance systems." As they said this, Carson noted that half a dozen CatBots had joined the party. One was sitting on Rodney's lap, and several seemed to be greeting Kusanagi. As he watched, even Ronon and John spoke with and then lifted CatBots to their laps. Madison smiled as they noticed that as well. "It could be an ideal space for bot training interactions. In addition to the common areas for each floor, which would encourage communal or large family social structures, there are recreation areas on floors five, ten, and fifteen. There's a proposal in Island Empire that details how residents and others on Atlantis could build community in such a tower by using one level for fitness and physical therapy, one for shared media and art creation or viewings, and one as a multipurpose space that could reconfigure for community meetings, trainings, or celebrations."

The mention of physical therapy made Carson wonder if Ronon was thinking of him or possibly of a teaching hospital or clinic for locals on Atlantis.

Kusanagi spoke for the first time, at least that Carson had noticed, since her arrival. "That proposal goes to great lengths to ensure future residents from different groups could maintain divergent practices and even legal systems while coordinating through a tower-wide council that would have some veto powers with respect to the Elevated Council, which might parallel the Atlantis City Council in the real world." Three CatBots sat squished together on the table beside Kusanagi's plate, antennae angled toward her as if listening attentively.

"Not exactly veto powers," Madison hastily inserted. "The proposal defines certain rights, like privacy, assembly, expression, access to healthcare, access to outside, and so on. When those rights were in dispute, any changes would require consensus between the city council, the tower council, and whatever lesser jurisdictions were involved. Those smaller jurisdictions can shift and overlap. For example, some residents might be part of a vegetarian meal group where each family cooks for the others one night each week. But one family in that group might have kids in a different educational cooperative. Another might not have kids but might be part of a religious group that can only eat in private, so they'd eat separately."

"And BotKin?" Kusanagi asked.

"There aren't any bots in the game, but they're just like any other people really." Madison took a large bite from a cornbread roll, as if to say they were done explaining.

#

Rodney was surprised by Madison's last statement. While he was more comfortable with the BotKin than most Atlantis residents, he wasn't sure of their sapience, let alone sentience. "Even with the number of times I've been accused of lacking human empathy or insights, I'm pretty sure humans and BotKin are not just alike. I'm not talking better or worse, but different."

Madison sighed at him around their cornbread, and Rodney understood why some people had called his own table manners disgusting. They swallowed most of the bite before saying with teenage condescension, "I'm different from you and from Kusanagi. The three of us seen as a group are different from others in the Atlantis expedition. And people in Atlantis are different from people on Earth. Can you prove the BotKin are the most different, out of any group represented as human in either this galaxy or the Milky Way?"

One glance at Kusanagi showed she wasn't inclined to help Rodney in this dispute. In fact, she was petting three CatBots in turn and wouldn't even meet his eyes. "If you're asking me to design a Turing test that every human in two galaxies could pass and no BotKin could, well—I probably could do it, but it would be a monumental waste of my time and intellect."

"Not like it's hard for smart people to make stupid tests," Madison said. "I can tell you five different ways to prove gender is binary. Then I can tell you which assumptions and biases undermine each one."

"Forget prejudice against singular they as a personal pronoun," Rodney inserted, talking fast. "Do you know how many humans working in space are prejudiced against advanced robots and anything resembling global AI?"

Madison glanced at Murderbot and Hanso then clenched their fists and said, "I'm well aware scientists, like other people, come with all sorts of important personal differences. Some beliefs need to be challenged."

Rodney thumped one hand on the table, making the dishes rattle and drawing everyone's attention. "Look, Madison, you've been here one week. You may not have learned about the replicators yet, but trust me, no one on Atlantis or in the SGC is going to accept a non-biological entity as human no matter how much it looks or acts like a human."

Beside him, John shuddered, and Rodney set Data on the table so he could take John's hand and then rest both together on his own knee. Data rolled carefully across the table, dodging plates of food and strings of lights, to reach the cluster of CatBots by Kusanagi.

"And if we give a human artificial limbs? A pace maker? Hearing aids?" The more worked up Madison became, the more they sounded like their mom. "How about a chip in the brain to process visual input? Or tiny intestinal robots to address a metabolic disorder? Are they less human?"

Rodney knew this didn't count as appropriate party conversation. Nonetheless—and despite John's fine efforts to put them both in a better mood before the picnic—he couldn't let it go, although he valiantly held back a couple of choice insults. "That's not the point and you know it. While an infinite number of monkeys might produce Hamlet and we might eventually get a well-trained neural net to solve a millennium problem, I don't think even the BotKin could really understand humans or apply creativity the way humans can."

"What if Murderbot understands humans better than I do?" Kusanagi asked, quietly taking up the gauntlet.

"Prove it."

"Can't be done, and you can't prove the opposite," Kusanagi said. "But unless the Earth internet has been overrun with non-humans, Murderbot's fanfic is way more popular with humans than anything I write. And their proposal for the new tower in Island Empire is wildly successful with other players and members of the actual city council."

"You write fanfic, too?" Madison asked, and Murderbot nodded.

"Oh, please tell me you're not writing slash," Rodney said to Madison. "I will never be able to enjoy fanfiction.net again if I imagine you might be writing the sex scenes."

"Don't worry," Madison said, wrinkling their nose, "I'd never post on fanfiction.net, only Ao3."

"Me too," Murderbot said with no expression, because they didn't have a mouth or nose, but something in their tone still suggested distaste.

The two of them high-fived each other, and Kusanagi started to laugh. Then John joined in with his horrible donkey bray. And Teyla's family, who probably—okay, possibly—didn't know what fanfic was, joined in as if laughter was contagious.

Rodney shook his head, schooling himself to stay quiet. Murderbot sat equally silent across the table from him.

Only Ronon and Carson seemed caught in their own little bubble, whispering together around MedBot's 3's tallest sensors, or what others called its head.

#

Carson had missed whatever Rodney was snarking about with Madison and Kusanagi. Ronon had been telling him more about the proposal on Island Empire and how he'd recognized some ideas regarding family, community, and jurisdictions from recorded Satedan documents and those from a couple other Pegasus worlds. He hypothesized that the author had been preparing the way for natives of both Earth and Pegasus, possibly including BotKin, to develop an intentional community together. He also thought it would be an ideal way to bring refugees or those needing long-term medical care to live on Atlantis. If a family grouping, basically one of the floors in the new tower, accepted them, they'd already have their first jurisdiction and the full set of rights that came with the tower.

When the others devolved into laughter and Rodney was the only one left frowning, Carson turned to him and said, "Could Ronon, Hanso, and I have one suite if you get a floor in that tower? I have some cooking ability, and Ronon has amazing contacts at the morning market."

"Yes," Rodney answered immediately. "I would take you even without the food part, but I'll definitely take the food as well. How soon do you think they'll let us move in?"

#

As the party ended, Kusanagi proved to be even more adept at packing up leftovers than the bots. When she and Madison were the only humans left, Madison asked, "How did you know Murderbot wrote that proposal in Island Empire?"

"I'd like to say I recognized the writing style from beta-reading their fanfic. But the site of this picnic where the hippogriffs nest in the game also suggested it was their work, or the two of yours combined. Especially since BotKin can't officially have accounts or access the Ancient server."

"You designed the motion sensor devices," Madison said. "I think most players can tell the two hippogriffs are played by different people."

"Except overnight." Kusanagi flicked a glance up from the rolls she was wrapping, probably amused by Madison's obvious surprise. "At least now I don't have to worry my grad student is staying up all night gaming."

"How would you know that unless you're up all night yourself? Or you have sysadmin access because you wrote the game?"

"It's been widely speculated." Kusanagi didn't even smile.

Madison wanted to ask if Kusanagi had known their relationship to Dr. McKay and only pretended ignorance at their first meeting, but the answer was obvious in retrospect. Instead they asked, "And a seat on the Elevated Council?"

"No one knows or should they. But if you wanted to adapt the proposal from the game to present to the real city council, I'd be happy to beta read that for you."

#


	4. Chapter 4

It was just as well that Madison had arrived early for their office hours the next morning. Ronon was hurrying toward the bots' meeting room with two baskets in hand. Murderbot approached the door from inside but didn't question the humans' near simultaneous arrival.

"What's up, Ronon?" Madison asked as they set their own belonging on their desk.

"Couple questions for both you and Murderbot," Ronon said as he placed both of the baskets he carried on Madison's desk as well.

"First, this basket is for you," he said to Madison. Then he turned to Murderbot, "If you ate fruit or rolls I would have brought you something, sorry. Is there stuff I should pick up for you or Hanso at the morning market?"

"BotKin are not allowed at the morning market, so I do not know, but I doubt there is anything there for us. Thank you for asking."

Ronon shrugged. "People I know at the market would like to meet you. Both of you. They heard about the game proposal becoming a real life proposal for the new tower, about building interlocking communities including people from various planets and bots. The family that makes the rolls"—he pointed into the baskets—"Is from Toluse. Three generations. Fifteen people total. They were wondering how they could apply to live there if your proposal goes through. The collective that sells the fruit is interested, too. They have a sort of community within community belief system. Thought maybe Madison could visit them later today and also pick up some special lunch foods I've arranged for Carson. I drew a map of where to find them all."

For a person Madison had heard described as taciturn or speaking in grunts, Ronon could communicate a lot of information very quickly when he wanted to. He passed Madison the map, and they nodded. "I'll do my best, but how do they know about all that?"

Ronon patted the basket on Madison's desk. "Funny how many gamers show up at the morning market after staying up all night. I assumed you were discussing it? They talked about the hippogriffs?"

Madison glanced at Murderbot who nodded. "Sure, we'll see what we can work out."

"Thanks. Have to get this to Carson and get to the Gate." With that, Ronon carried his other basket away.

"I can write those initially interested in joining into our proposal after your lunch visits," Murderbot said. "Let me know how it goes and if they have any ideas to contribute. We had two other requests from gamer groups last night, some dragons and some merfolk. They gave me their real names and offered to speak at the upcoming council meeting. I think that means they're serious."

"This may be the closest I've ever come to being popular." Madison wasn't sure how they felt about that and started unpacking the basket Ronon had brought. One bite of a roll with something like currants was enough to convince Madison that they should spend more time at the morning market. The berries and something that looked like a kiwi fruit with orange inside were even better.

"It will help for you to make friends beyond the BotKin," Murderbot said.

"I'm not great at social stuff, but I'll try for the sake of our tower plan." Madison paused in their eating when they noticed how still Murderbot was sitting. "Just so you know, I'd still be every bit as much your friend even if lots of other people suddenly wanted to know me. We are friends, right?"

"I thought you would tell me. I have very little experience with friends."

"Maybe that's why we get along." When Murderbot didn't respond, Madison went on. "Until recently, I wasn't considered an adult, so I'm used to having limits placed on me that I don't like. I've always had parents, teachers, professors, even other students, act like they knew better and could boss me around, even when I was smarter and knew better than they did. I don't know if that sounds at all like what you go through here, but it affects how I feel about BotKin not being allowed to go certain places or have equal access to game accounts and Ancient tech. Just thought you should know."

"Is that empathy?" Murderbot looked up with that question, and Madison met their cameras face on.

"Maybe. I may not be the best human to ask about that." Not feeling like eating anymore, Madison set down the roll they'd been holding.

"Last night, you seemed to feel sad—or something negative—for not realizing the failed bot was the one most like me." Murderbot reached toward their neck, where the LED necklace had hung the night before, as if that were part of the memory. "I think I felt sad because you were sad, and I was also at fault for not telling you when I realized you didn't know."

"It's yours to tell or not," Madison said instantly. "I don't want to be some jerk who treats you like an experimental subject or like I know more than you do when I've only been here a week. I should have at least asked if you wanted to help with my simulations and what I was learning from that code. Do you want to work with me on that or would you rather not see it?"

"What do you think of my theory that although we both originated from Dr. Biro and Dr. McKay, it matters that they were trained partly by LabBot 1 while I was trained partly by Data?"

"I'm sure it matters. You were different people right from the start." Madison pulled up the code on the Ancient console where they usually gamed, so Murderbot could interact via the motion sensor interface. "Let me know if any of this bothers you or if I'm acting like a know it all. But on Earth we have something called GANs, or Generative Adversarial Networks. Where one algorithm tests another in the very early stages of training. I think something like that happened with the other bot. One training AI started testing the other and when the other failed discrimination tasks too often, they set up some sort of fatal loop, or I could interpret it as a power imbalance between two parts that were supposed to become one whole. Is it possible for you to look at this and tell if your early training had similar stages?"

Murderbot used gestures to rapidly read through the code. "I don't know my own code this way. But some early parts from MedBot 1 are obvious to me. The differences between LabBot 1 and Data could be key to your theory and mine. While we can't see either of their code this way so long as they survive, we could ask them to share training data from their previous interactions with MedBots. They can share that with me faster than with you, but you can plug it into simulations on Ancient systems faster than I can."

"If this works, we could test future combinations via simulation before starting another bot this way. I mean, at best it would only partially test for this one known failure mode. But that's as good as some genetic tests humans run before having kids."

Murderbot gestured to create tables with training differences they'd already recorded from LabBot 1 and Data. "Do you have any idea of the size of data sets we're going to have to enter?"

"Maybe we could use speech recognition to capture some of the training data even if we have to slow down a recording from how it's told to you," Madison suggested.

"We'll need error checking protocols," Murderbot added as Madison also set to work.

By the end of office hours, they'd outlined their proposal for Kusanagi to look over. Madison made sure the proposal included both their names.

#

As they approached the clinic on Lo Seco where Rodney had found Carson all but dead, a man of about Ronon's size stepped in front of the door and placed one hand on his hip and the other over a large, holstered knife at his waist.

"Lanteans, you're not welcome here."

Rodney stayed at the back of the group, more than happy never to set foot in that place again. He was also following Teyla's instructions to stay quiet and mostly out of sight, as she said, "We apologize for our rude behavior last visit. We come to make amends and bring a message from Healer Carson to the other healers here."

The man tried to stare Teyla down but failed. "Go wait by those trees." He lifted a hand from his hip to point at a spot far distant that was at least shaded. "If anyone wishes to hear the message you claim to carry, they will meet you there."

Teyla turned to John with raised eyebrows. John raised one eyebrow at Ronon. That silent communication somehow culminated in John leading Rodney and Biro in the indicated direction with Teyla following behind them while Ronon walked a curved route that kept all of them and the guard in sight at all times.

Minutes passed. At least two. When Rodney tried to hide behind John and pull out his tablet, John said, "Stay alert."

Rodney tried not to roll his eyes. He seriously hoped this wouldn't be the sort of planet where people shot at you for being rude—on your previous visit.

The person who finally came to meet them had rough skin and wore shapeless light yellow clothes, like scrubs meant to look cheerful. She had dark hair liberally streaked with gray, wound in a braid around her head, and a series of sheathes on her belt that might hold variously sized knives. Or something else. "My name is Healer Taran. I will hear you."

Teyla introduced their party, including "Healer Biro," and then asked, "Should we wait for anyone else?"

"No." Taran's tone reminded Rodney instantly of Carson saying "no" to any of a hundred requests over the years. Surprisingly, he liked her better for that.

"Very well," Teyla said and motioned Rodney forward.

"We have a video to play that shows Healer Carson speaking." Rodney held out the simple—expendable—tablet they'd prepared for this mission. "Would you like an explanation of how a video is made first? And would you like to sit someplace to watch?"

The glare she fixed on Rodney was fierce. "Healer Carson explained some of your imaging devices to me. I prefer to stand."

Now Taran reminded Rodney of Ronon, and he could imagine how Carson would have made the effort to explain such things to her. He passed the tablet with the video queued up to Teyla, and watched her hold it patiently through Carson's rather long explanation of his current health, the vaccine, anti-viral, liver and kidney dialysis, and how the Lanteans might work with the Network of Healers going forward. Rodney's feet were tired and he sat down on a fallen tree halfway through, ignoring John's huff of disapproval. He pulled out his life signs detector and challenged himself to determine which life signs in the clinic were doctors verses patients based solely on heartrate, movement, and position relative to the ground.

When the video ended, Taran said only, "Healer Carson's suggestions are interesting. I will see if others will come see, so we may better decide."

By the time a group of four healers had started playing the video again, Rodney had determined that of 63 people in the clinic, eight were almost certainly healers. The 31 lying on low bedding near the floor were most likely patients, although Rodney couldn't rule out family member being allowed to stay with them who might also be lying down. Only a couple of heartrates were erratic enough to indicate obvious medical issues. There were no signs anyone planned to ambush them or chase them back to the Gate.

Bored again, he pulled up the proposal from Island Empire that had supposedly been written mostly by Murderbot. It read well and was persuasive, although Rodney would have to compare it to other sources to see how much was plagiarized and pasted together. He was curious to read fanfic created by the BotKin, but couldn't get over the idea they were in some way his grandkid. He could ask if they'd written any stories they'd want him to read, and maybe he'd ask Madison at the same time. That seemed like the mature, adult thing to do. Maybe he'd finally figure out how to be an uncle, or whatever. He was wondering if either of them wrote in any Star Trek universes when the healers huddled around the tablet began to argue.

"Is it not a deception?"

"If Healer Carson knew of such things, surely he would have called his people sooner."

"He was too proud."

Taran huffed, "He was too self-sacrificing. We have all seen healers behave irrationally about their own health."

"You still talk like him."

"Shut up," Taran said. "He sent these people to share what helped him. Everyone here is at risk for contracting the Bad Blood. We owe it to our patients and ourselves to learn and share this immunization and the possibility of treatment."

"We have no proof. Our patients know even less."

"They wear not the yellow coverings Tan Po complained of last time."

"Tan Po will be hardest to persuade, although his planet has the most to gain."

"Please," Dr. Biro cut in, "I would be happy to answer questions and explain our planet's past experiences with offering vaccines and treatments to a new population. I have done all I can to assure the vaccine's safety. Both Ronon and Teyla were vaccinated without incident. But there could be someone here from a different ancestry or with some other illness that we have not yet encountered."

"Why should we trust you?"

"I am also a healer, a friend and co-worker of Healer Carson. I came to you because he asked me to." Biro sounded confident, despite her lack of offworld experience.

"Have you heard Healer Carson speak of her?" One of the others asked Taran.

"He rarely spoke of his own people, but no, I do not remember that name," Taran said.

"Did he ever talk about me?" Rodney asked from where he sat. "Rodney McKay?"

"He did speak of someone named Rodney. A patient who complained a lot, but also a close friend. And also of Ronon," Taran looked to Ronon and something Rodney couldn't understand passed between them. "A Runner who insisted that Healer Carson operate outdoors on a planet with damaging sunlight to remove a tracker placed close to his spine. Healer Carson told me that story when teaching about imaging technology and other tools that could have made the surgery safer."

"Would you share those other tools?" Another healer asked. "What about the liver and kidney machines Healer Carson says he'll need throughout life unless someone is found to give parts from their own bodies?"

"Right now we only have one kidney machine and one liver machine," Biro said. "Carson needs them for a couple hours almost every day. But if someone else needed them as badly, we could offer to take that patient back with us. If others here agree to this vaccine trial, I will also take blood samples to test and tell you if anyone here might be compatible to donate to someone in need. Usually the best matches come from relatives, who would also benefit most from vaccination."

"If you cut into two people—if you move parts from one to another—how likely are they both to survive?"

"Where I come from, fewer than one in a hundred patients die from such surgery," Biro said matter-of-factly, and the Healers around her gasped or wrinkled their foreheads. "Donations are common, especially among relatives. Some people sign up ahead of time to donate to anyone in need, in case they later die from a head injury or something that does not affect the needed organs. We can discuss options and what the risks might be here. But at first, especially if we find a donor for Carson, we would probably take both donor and a willing local Healer to learn the procedure at our medical center with our equipment. However, any person receiving new organs would need special medicine for the rest of their lives, to convince their body to accept another person's organs. There are still risks after the surgery for the organ recipient."

"Someone who would already be dead from Bad Blood, otherwise? We have patients who breathe or eat through tubes after we save them from other diseases. Even a year or two more is precious to most families. I would hear all Healer Biro has to say." Taran and two other healers agreed with the man who spoke.

"I still don't trust them," said the other healer. But she didn't interfere when the rest led their party to a building behind the infirmary and offered them tea and fruit while they spoke together.

The discussions went on for hours. Rodney would have counted it a complete waste of his time, except that he was covertly recording every word said for Carson. That didn't mean he had to listen. Instead, Rodney had plenty of time to analyze Murderbot's proposal, which was at least more rational and better written than the current batch of project proposals submitted by his minions. Once he'd read all of those as well, he started designing sleeves or attachments for the vibrator he'd recently learned that John liked after all.

#

Carson had been lying in bed since he finished physical therapy. Without Ronon to massage his legs or even hold his hand, there was nothing to distract the doctor from how weak and painful his body was. While he'd recovered tremendously from the state his friends found him in on Lo Seco, it was discouraging to still need Hanso's help to get to and from the bathroom at times like this. He hadn't even tried to shower yet, just the one bath three days before and washing up at the bathroom sink.

He felt at least eighty years old, although he'd known octogenarians who'd scaled Mt. Kilimanjaro, and he'd always hoped to age that well. At the moment, his body disgusted him. The recklessness with which he'd thrown his health away was disgraceful for a doctor, and even for his own sake. All the care Ronon gave him felt undeserved. Carson might have felt undeserving of such attentions at any point in his life, but at least he would have been able to reciprocate before. Now he was unsure if he'd ever be able to perform as a lover, and while he'd counseled many patients on how other intimacies and actions could matter as much or more, he found himself mourning his lost opportunities with Ronon.

Carson knew he was wallowing. He resolved several times to think about or do something else, but not having the strength to get out of bed undermined his efforts. A knock on his door almost made him laugh at himself. In fact, he chuckled a bit when Hanso rushed to greet whoever as Carson thought the door open.

"Hello?" a young voice that took him a moment to place called out. "It's Madison bringing lunch. May I come in?"

"Yes, please forgive me for not welcoming you at the door." Carson struggled to push himself into a sitting position at the head of his bed, before they came around the bookshelf and saw him.

"No problem." Madison carried a tray with a shallow bowl full of berries and two rounder bowls with vegetable soup. "Ronon asked me to pick this up from a Turthan who lives in the tower where we had the picnic last night. It was good to meet someone who actually lived there, and they gave me a brief tutorial on Pegasus fruits and vegetables."

Madison set the bowls on the nightstand beside Carson, and Hanso brought two spoons and cloth napkins. Carson thanked both of them.

"Would you like some company, or is there anything else I could help with or bring?" Madison asked without looking at him.

Carson motioned to the chair beside his bed. "If you have time to stay for lunch and would like to share most of these berries as well as the soup, Ronon always overestimates what I can eat, and you rarely get fruit this ripe in the mess hall. Hanso is also very skilled at making tea."

"Um, I guess I could try some tea, if you don't mind, Hanso?" Madison had no problem looking directly into Hanso's cameras.

Hanso waved their antennae in little circles. "Would you like sweet tea? I can make peppermint tea with sugar? Or there is Carson's favorite, which is a smoky black tea? Or chamomile?"

"The peppermint with some sugar sounds great," Madison said.

Hanso blinked three light. "Would you like your usual tea, Dr. Beckett?"

"I'll have peppermint with Madison, and you can call me Carson around them."

Three lights and Hanso was off to make tea.

Carson picked up a few berries then said to Madison, "Please don't be shy. I can't even eat half that many with all this soup. Are you hungry?"

"I'm sort of on a Hobbit schedule today," Madison said, biting their lip in a half smile. "Ronon brought me a second breakfast when he dropped off instructions. Then my lesson on local produce involved sampling as well. The South and Southwest piers seem like very nice places to live. At this point, I've exchanged fewer words with all the scientists in the hall where I live than I did with various locals and others out there today. Do you think it will work out for us to share the top floor of the new building with my uncle and Colonel Sheppard?"

"I'm a bit worried about Sheppard living comfortably with BotKin, but I noticed Rodney didn't invite Data or any others to actually live in their suites, and Sheppard was holding one of the CatBots last night. It's possible he and others have grown more accepting of the BotKin since the first generation."

"Why didn't Sheppard like them?"

"The first time Sheppard saw a CatBot it was on Rodney's chest or neck while he was sleeping. Sheppard knocked it across the room and nearly shot it, at least the way Rodney tells the story. Rodney complained to everyone as if the Colonel had attacked a defenseless pet. But most who heard could easily imagine how an Ancient device would look like a threat, especially on a sleeping person, especially on Atlantis where the Ancients left some pretty dangerous toys lying around."

"Was the CatBot okay?" Madison asked.

They were definitely related to McKay. Carson picked up his soup and enjoyed the warmth as he explained. "You'd have to ask your uncle. I can't recall for certain if that was Data or not. But I think that's what led to keeping bots mostly in science areas. I don't know how things are on Earth now, but a lot of the SGC's experiences with bots or other tech that might seem intelligent haven't gone well. While we try to break down prejudices against other cultures and lifestyles that Gate teams might encounter, tech is a different story."

"I've seen and read plenty of stories about bots or AI working against people," Madison said as they rolled a smooth pink berry between their fingers. "I'm part of the Harry Potter generation and grew up with the admonition to 'never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain.'" Carson had first heard of Harry Potter from Ronon just days before, and Madison's quote didn't help his understanding, except to revise how significant it was, at least to some people on Earth. "But that's the thing. I majored in computer science, and I'm learning about AI fast. I may understand the BotKin better than I understand humans at this point. It might be different for you as a doctor who understands humans in ways I never will, but to me, they're all people. Isn't there some doctors' oath about 'first, do no harm.'"

Resting his soup on his lap Carson said, "That's widely misquoted and misattributed to the Hippocratic Oath, but the sentiment holds. Still, the reasons why I'd try not to hurt a Jumper are different, and lesser in my mind, than the reasons why I'd try not to hurt a cat. So the question may be: which is a CatBot more like?"

"I don't know the CatBots that well yet," Madison said. "And I know even with Earth tech, kids and some other people get confused by machine learning that simulates human responses, especially in a text only system. But Murderbot doesn't seem like a simulation by any test I know, at least not any more than I am. Half the people I know are neurodivergent in some way. I'd reject any argument that we're less human."

"As would I," Carson assured.

"Then what I know from looking at code and tech, as well as interacting with Murderbot, suggests they're fully a person. At some point, we have to give the benefit of the doubt to those who are different in some way. And seriously, people here must realize my uncle or my advisor are also smart and different and a little bit scary. I have no doubt either one could destroy Atlantis and all of us in an hour if they chose to. But we'd be fools to try to restrict them to the science areas. I think the BotKin have already been through a lot. We're training them to be like us, and that's probably the part that makes them most dangerous."

Carson sipped his soup in silence for a few moments as he thought. "It's good getting to know you, Madison. And I appreciate you bringing me lunch. Is there any way I can help with your plans for that tower and the bots?"

"Actually," Madison pulled out a tablet Carson hadn't even realized was stashed within their science jacket, "Ronon mentioned making a space for refugees or those needing long term medical treatment in the new tower. I could use your advice on setting up a physical therapy area and maybe a dialysis center, especially if we get more machines like Biro says she and Dr. Srisuk are requesting. You want to read over the rights and residency changes that Murderbot and I worked out to cover such possibilities?"

#

After visiting Carson, Madison walked into the CS-3 lab and froze in their tracks. Kusanagi sat on a stool by a lab bench full of wiring and etching tools. She was filing the edges off a curved metal plate with a starburst pattern covering one side. Without looking up from her work she said, "Hello, Madison."

That got Madison moving forward again. "Hello, Dr. Kusanagi. Would you like my help with anything?"

"I'm nearly finished," Kusanagi said. "Just doing a bit of reconstructive art for Cheshire. Someone spilled acid on him."

"Was that the bot between JiJi and Goose last night? I saw how they all hurried over to you when they arrived, but I never got a clear look at the one in the middle," Madison said.

"That was Cheshire. I'm not sure if the chemist stuck monitoring experiments during the party yesterday was careless, in a foul mood, or intentionally spilled acid on Cheshire. But she's lucky the only damage was external and easily fixed." Kusanagi's fierce tone belied the calm expression on her face.

"So it wasn't some guy with a greasy ponytail who lives in my hallway?"

"No," Kusanagi paused with the metal file still in hand, "Is there a problem I should know about?"

"Nothing specific, just someone who made a couple of nasty comments about bots."

"Well, if you—or the bots—are ever threatened or harassed, let me know right away. Unfortunately, McKay was right about some expedition members still harboring prejudices against robots and anything resembling global AI."

"Do you think there might be global AI in other systems here?" Madison asked, perching on a stool across from their advisor.

"If so, they've had the upper hand at least since Atlantis reached full power." Kusanagi focused on her filing as she said, "It probably wouldn't be to anyone's advantage to mention the possibility in official reports or to say, the Chief Science Officer. When the program goes public, we'll need people in both the Milky Way and Pegasus to trust us with what Atlantis has to offer."

"Should they?" Madison couldn't help but ask.

With steady hands and a calm voice, Kusanagi said, "Should they trust the IOA, the US government, the Japanese government? I've seen analyses that show people's fears of AI and robots parallel fears of corporate power. But should they trust corporations? And if they knew some of the hackers I've known, then they'd really be worried." Kusanagi looked up for a moment, barely meeting Madison's eyes. "Perhaps those who feel powerful within current systems have more reason to fear strong AI than the status quo. For myself, I feel safer with Atlantis and the BotKin than anyplace on Earth."

Emboldened by their advisor's frankness, Madison asked, "What about all the restrictions on the BotKin?"

"A compromise, hopefully temporary, at least the ones placed by Earthlings." Kusanagi held up the curved metal plate she'd been filing. The pattern of overlapping starbursts caught and refracted the light. "We have replacement plates, but Cheshire wanted the reminder, reclaimed to make a personal mark. It's a reminder to me too, that we have to be careful how we use whatever power we may have."

#

Carson let Hanso push his wheelchair to the transporter, but he managed from the transporter to the infirmary under his own power.

"Looking good," Sheppard called from where he stood with his team. They seemed to have finished their post-mission screenings. Carson wasn't sure if they'd been waiting for him or waiting to see how the patients they brought back from Lo Seco would fare.

"Thank you, I'm feeling much better," Carson replied. Ronon met his eyes and smiled.

From across the room a familiar voice called out, "Healer Carson, is that you?"

He wheeled himself toward the large scanners until he found Healer Taran, standing where the patient in the scanner could keep her in view.

Carson went to her staying out of Khun Somchai's way, and said, "Healer Taran, I'm so glad you were the one chosen to come."

"Healer Follaz came as well. His patient has the most likely donor match found so far, a sister. They are from Grusset, as is Healer Follaz, and were only willing to make the journey with him. The other three patients needing dialysis, if I understand the terminology correctly, were all familiar enough with me. Both Follaz and I will study the transfer procedure and as much else as we can learn." She looked briefly around the Atlantis infirmary, full of shiny metal and bright white surfaces. "You are the best testament to the quality of care here."

"I should have returned sooner, for all our patients' sakes."

"To each place in its own time," Taran said. "I brought a large jar of the Osalii ointment. Make sure you take some for yourself once Healer Biro agrees it is safe. It will help your skin recover from your long illness."

At that point Somchai approached and said, "I have finished my final tests. If you would join us in the room you all chose, we can discuss treatment options."

"Are you well enough to join us, Healer Carson?" Taran asked.

"We would have to ask all the patients before sharing information with another," Somchai said.

Taran laughed, "You had to ask because you are an outsider. Those who come to our Network of Healers believe healers should discuss and share information to decide and act wisely. Healer Carson is one of us and already part of that agreement."

Somchai dipped his head in recognition but said, "I hope you will not mind if I confirm consent to meet regulations here."

"We are happy to learn your ways of offering care as well as new treatments and technologies." Taran went to help the patient now sitting up on the full body scanner, and they all regrouped in an ancillary section of the infirmary mostly used for overflow. Of the eight beds in the room, four held patients. The kidney and liver machines Carson had been using daily had also been moved there, along with the usual monitors and IV systems.

After a long round of introductions, permissions, and clarifications among both healers and patients, it was clear the new patients and healers all preferred to stay together for now. None of them had the ATA gene. Everyone had been through decontamination and had no further issues requiring isolation. All four patients would require dialysis unless organ donors could be found. Only one of them also need the bioartificial liver and eventually a liver donor. Another one had a hernia that should be treated as soon as possible. The sister who had come along was in fact a good donor match. With proper education and counseling protocols, they might be able to complete that procedure just a few days hence.

Both Healers Taran and Follaz kept looking back towards the scans displayed on various Earth and Ancient monitors around the room, no matter what they were discussing. "Can you see inside a person like this while you operate?" Follaz asked.

"For some procedures we scan or position a camera to help us see better," Somchai answered. "For the kidney transfer, it won't be necessary. But we can practice with a virtual simulation, going through every step with moving three dimensional pictures, before the real thing." He gestured with his hands pulling in each of three dimensions, and Follaz at least nodded.

Lansol, the patient who needed a new liver as well as a kidney made a clicking sound with his tongue, which Carson knew meant he wanted to ask a question. When he had the healers' attention he asked, "If there is no one to give me parts of their body or if I do not wish to take them from anyone, will I never be able to go home?"

When no one else responded, Carson asked, "What planet are you from?"

"I have no remaining home except Lo Seco, Healer." Lansol couldn't be more than half Carson's age, but he looked almost as unhealthy as Carson had when he'd woken up back on Atlantis.

"I can make no promises, but I hope in time we will bring back at least a kidney machine for the healing center on Lo Seco. Do you understand a liver donor, if we can find one, would only be giving you part of their liver? Within a few weeks you would both regrow a full-sized liver. Will you take time to think about this while we take time to think about good solutions?"

"Yes, Healer. Thank you."

"Thank you," Carson said. A sense of peace and warmth filled him at this small chance to practice his craft.

They set up a schedule for the new arrivals to access all the machines and therapies Carson had already been benefiting from. Some adjustments were made to involve Healers Taran and Follaz in mental health assessments as well as assuring the patients could give duly informed consent on each option. Carson worried there had already been some level of coercion in offering those on Lo Seco the vaccine trial and possibilities of treatment and training on Atlantis in exchange for cooperation and blood samples, but he was in no position to second guess Biro at the moment. Instead, he stayed as long as he could, trying to understand what would work best long term, both for accommodating such groups on Atlantis and for supporting their Network of Healers elsewhere.

#

When they ended up in the supply closet near the infirmary again, Rodney didn't mind not having a bed. Since John had told him these hook ups were a sort of tribute to the first time Rodney blew him, and that he'd been the best, the setting was a lot more of a turn on. Rodney got down on his knees without being asked and started to unfasten John's pants. He could feel John hardening beneath his touch.

"That is so hot," John said, scratching fingernails lightly through Rodney's hair. "I love your mouth."

"I love your cock," Rodney answered, refusing to think of anything but giving the best blow job ever. Now that he knew what John liked, he could definitely outperform that first time. He sucked in the tip of John's cock at the same moment he started to roll the man's balls. Keeping both those movements in rhythm, his other hand traced John's perineum and teased around his hole.

Taking his time as John filled and tensed, Rodney ran his tongue in circles and then toyed with John's slit and the large vein underneath. Whenever John gasped, Rodney repeated his last motions a couple more times, rewarding John for slight losses of control, until John was panting hard.

By then John's cock was messy and slick. Rodney slathered the fingers that had been playing with John's hole and then carefully slid one inside. With John standing, it was a bit harder to find what he wanted. He kept working John slowly, refusing to speed up or suck harder until he located that bundle of nerves inside. Now he could play John like an instrument.

He'd focus on the prostate while easing back on suction and what his hand was doing at the base of John's cock. When Rodney increased suction, he'd let his finger inside ease away. He waited until John was starting to shake and cling to the shelves before he pressed John from inside and then sucked his cock deep, playing John forward and back until the man came like he couldn't hold back anymore.

When John sank to the floor, he needed a moment to catch his breath. Then he said, "Put yourself in my mouth now. Do what you want."

John had never let Rodney fuck his face before. Rodney wasn't sure if John was asking for that now or if he'd even be able to handle it in his current state. But Rodney wanted John's mouth, and he wasn't going to take long to come at this point. He opened his pants and positioned himself as best he could. Then he shifted John's head a little lower. The man was still a relaxed bag of bones as his mouth fell open.

Rodney slid only a little way onto John's hot, wet tongue. Then he caressed John's cheek and jaw, closing that sweet mouth around his crown. Rocking just an inch or two forward and back into the slight suction and twitches of John's tongue was enough to bring Rodney right to the edge.

"Just a little more. Suck harder and let me push a little deeper. I'm going to come down your throat."

John sucked wet and sloppy like his life depended on it. Rodney only needed six small thrusts before he was coming hard, not too deep. He wanted John to taste it. Feel it. Enjoy it.

Then they were both collapsed together on the cold closet floor. And it was better than it had ever been.

#

Murderbot followed Madison into their room and asked, "How do you feel about sharing a floor in the tower with your uncle?"

"I barely know him, but I think it would be entertaining," Madison answered as they pulled off their shoes. "I like living around smart people. At home and at Tech, I learned six interesting facts before I finished breakfast most days. So long as I have my own room to retreat to, I can live with just about anyone."

"Probably not if all those smart people were actively trying to kill you."

"You know that's just an expression."

Murderbot shrugged their fully rotational shoulder blades. " I know the quote by Charles Lutwidge Dodgeson."

Madison almost said something stupid, then asked, "Is that another name for Lewis Carroll?"

"His real name rather than his penname." Murderbot settled into their triangular seating configuration by the Ancient console. "It's public information anyone could access."

Madison threw a sock, which was casually deflected. "Why'd you want me to spend time with Carson?"

"You were taking him food anyway. Providing company to someone recovering from major trauma is a socially approved action."

"It had nothing to do with him possibly sharing a floor with us or offering advice for the physical therapy area?" Madison didn't doubt that Murderbot had a game plan involving all of them and the future of Atlantis that was at least as complex as whatever Kusanagi was engineering with the Island Empire game.

"Gathering more information earlier in a decision process is logical." Murderbot tapped beside the motion sensor device meaningfully.

Madison took their seat and logged into Island Empire. The image that greeted them showed their two hippogriffs flying high above the new tower. "Are you sure you'd want to live with them?"

"I don't need to eat. I could enter my room in your suite through a service duct if I didn't want to interact with you or others, but so far, privacy hasn't mattered to me."

"Then what's the point of living there?"

"Choice." Murderbot answered immediately. "And I've never had my own room."

#

By the time Carson had finished with the healers and patients from Lo Seco, Ronon and his team had gone from the infirmary. Hanso helped Carson back to his room where dinner had already been left on a covered tray by his door. So Carson ate and prepared for bed, figuring Ronon had better things to do.

The knock at his door came just before Carson turned out the lights. Hanso rushed to greet whoever it was as Carson thought the door open.

"Hi, Hanso."

Carson heard Ronon's voice and the bot's reply of, "Hi, Ronon," before both appeared at the end of his bed.

"Hope it isn't too late." Ronon was freshly scrubbed, curls still damp, and wearing looser, softer looking clothes than usual.

"Not at all. I'm sure you had a lot to do post mission. Would you like some tea?" Carson's words were rushed and his insides fluttered, wanting Ronon closer. When Ronon declined tea, Hanso moved to the corner they'd chosen as their own with the tablet Carson had set up just for them. Ronon sat on one side of the bed, and Carson smelled something a bit spicy that he couldn't quite place until Ronon pulled out a round sample jar.

"Biro sent this saying it checks out as safe and contains vitamin E. Something Healer Taran brought for conditioning and cleaning your skin." Ronon trailed a hand down Carson's wrist to his palm before taking his hand. "I'd like to help rub it in." Ronon's eyes were dark and shadowed with only one light on in the room, and Carson was caught up in watching the man blink. "I could start with your back if you take off your shirt." When Carson still didn't answer Ronon said, "Or I could unbutton it for you."

"Are you trying to seduce me or just being helpful?" Carson asked, a little breathless.

Ronon stretched his fingers to stroke up Carson's wrist. "After all these years, I don't think seducing or courting mean the same to me as to anyone from Earth. I want to explore you, explore every possibility. Take my time. Try each new thing a few times maybe, until we know what we want with each other. To answer your question, I'd have to already know."

A tingling shiver swept outward across Carson's entire body from their single point of contact. He thought of Ronon describing Satedans as feeling love beneath the skin. The phrase "more than skin deep" came to mind, and Carson was almost certain what he felt was a desire to explore every possibility, and maybe that could be the beginning of love.

Unbuttoning his blue flannel pajama shirt as an excuse to look down, Carson said, "Anything you're willing to tell me as you go would help me understand better what this all means to you. It sounds like your previous experiences with people from Earth didn't go so well."

"I didn't want to explain for them as much as I'm willing to explain for you." Ronon released Carson's hand to let him remove his pajama top and set it aside. "Lie down."

Carson rolled to present his back, and Ronon eased a pillow under his shoulders and head.

"That good?" Ronon asked, smoothing out one corner.

Carson shifted a little until he was more comfortable. "I'm fine. Anything else you need?"

"I'll grab a couple towels." Ronon was back in under a minute and Carson could hear him rubbing his palms together before setting them on Carson's shoulders. Ronon's hands were large and slippery. The room smelled even more of the spicy lotion, something like ginger or cardamom that Carson had smelled before in his work. But each healer probably mixed it a little differently. Carson would remember to thank Taran for bringing this batch. For the time being, he let himself focus on the confident hands making broad strokes up and down his back.

"My skin feels warm wherever you touch. Is that something in the lotion or do I feel chilled to you?" Carson wondered about natural vasodilators that would increase blood flow to the skin as well as his own autonomic reactions.

Ronon grunted softly. "Your skin warms as I rub this in. But if you feel chilly, you could think the room a little warmer."

"You won't be too hot?"

"Not wearing my leathers tonight." Then in a lower tone, Ronon added, "I could take my shirt off as well."

"To me, that sounds like you're trying to be seductive, or at least flirtatious. Is it different for you?"

Ronon chuckled and circled his hands. "Lived most of my adult life here, so I know that much. On Sateda, clothing was more optional, especially on top. Not just for men. When women were nursing or if it was hot—Satedans were more practical that way."

"I used to think you didn't like talking, especially about personal or Satedan matters."

"Comes and goes. Never wanted to talk to Woolsey."

Carson laughed remembering when Ronon really wouldn't talk. Woolsey was grateful if he could get five words out of him. But when Carson needed answers to medical questions, Ronon had often told him more than Sheppard would. "Do you see yourself as practical that way?"

"Sometimes." Ronon added more lotion and worked his way along Carson's arms. He wasn't digging deeply, but the way he traced and supported each muscle, made Carson relax into his hold. "Sometimes it's hard for me to talk. Or it doesn't seem worth the effort."

"What makes talking seem worth the effort?" Carson asked, even as his face sank further into his pillow as his arms stretched out to the sides.

"Wanting more than attention. I want to build something. Build understanding or a relationship." Ronon worked the lotion into one wrist and hand as he pulled back to ask, "Now how do I ask about taking off your pants without it sounding like we've already decided about something more?"

Carson turned his face as far as he could, and Ronon leaned down to meet his eyes. "You wording it that way and backing off to work on just my hand before you asked makes me think you've made a pretty good study of people here."

"Naw, just you." Ronon ran one hand up Carson's arm again. "But I guess I did alright, since you're still relaxed. That mean I can take your pants off?"

Trying for a teasing tone he hadn't used in a while, Carson said, "Will you tell me what you're thinking as you do?"

"Sure you want to know?" Ronon's voice was low, but his expression was soft. He stayed where Carson could see him easily while waiting for an answer.

"How else will we build understanding?"

"Okay, then this is all for you." Ronon gave Carson's hand a squeeze and trailed fingers down Carson's side to the waistband of his flannel pajama pants. "I'm thinking how much I want to touch you. Also how strange it is that Earth people put so much work into sleep clothes, with buttons and elastic." He slid the pants down slowly, letting Carson lift his hips and adjust as needed. "I won't deny that I like seeing your ass and thighs, even if it makes me want to feed you more and help you get in shape again."

Ronon set the pants aside with the pajama shirt Carson had removed earlier. Then he pulled off his own shirt as well. "I'll take off the rest of my clothes if you want. It's plenty warm in here."

As he smoothed a generous helping of lotion around Carson's lower back and ass, Ronon said, "Your skin is so soft here. With the lotion it's shiny and stretches a little better. I don't know if I should tell you that's sexy to me. But it's true. The give of your skin and the flesh of your ass is attractive. It pinks up a bit as I'm rubbing. Makes me wonder what it would be like to work some oil inside you or if you even like that sort of sex."

Carson's hole twitched, and his ass flexed at the thought. He was sure Ronon noticed, but he met honestly with honesty. "I haven't done that in a long time and don't know if or when I'll be recovered enough, but yes, I enjoy giving and receiving that way, with fingers or cocks or toys."

Ronon traced a finger half way down Carson's crack but not farther. Carson didn't believe he was recovered enough for any sort of sex. Nonetheless, he felt his cock firming up a bit beneath him as Ronon cupped his cheeks before circling and stroking appreciatively. The idea that someone as beautiful as Ronon could find Carson attractive, even in his current condition, was heady.

The way Ronon's hands worked their way down Carson's thighs, fingers deep between his thighs where the skin was thin and sensitive, made Carson shiver and squirm a bit.

"Good to know I'm not alone in this," Ronon said, "But I'll try to help you relax for now." Ronon's hands worked up and down Carson's thighs from ass to knees in a way that didn't have to be sexual, but Carson felt it almost as if Ronon was stroking inside him.

"On Sateda," Ronon began, "I think people were less concerned about orgasms. Not to say we enjoyed them any less, but sex and touch didn't have to lead there. Sometimes people are tired, or they want to wait and do more in the morning, or one person comes a bunch and the other's body isn't set for that."

Carson almost asked if Ronon was trying to make him feel better. He'd probably heard plenty of jokes from Earth military about erectile dysfunction, poor performance, failure to launch, or whatever colloquialisms were popular these days. While Carson couldn't claim he was immune to those concerns, he'd done enough medical counseling and been raised in such a way not to be ashamed if he couldn't climax now or at some times in the past. As Ronon reached Carson's ankles and feet, he was actually dealing with quite a different problem.

"Let me lay down this towel to absorb any excess lotion." Ronon matched actions to words. "Now you can roll onto your back, and I'll do the rest of your skin."

Carson smiled and buried his face in the pillow.

After a beat Ronon said, "You don't need to be embarrassed, but I have a second towel you can use to cover up if you want."

Carson realized he didn't want to cover anything. He rolled onto his back and looked down at his own half hard cock. "I'm surprised it managed to react that much."

"I'll take it as a compliment," Ronon said, as he took more lotion and started to work his way up Carson's calves. It didn't take long, since he'd been able to reach around that part fairly well from behind. But Ronon took his time when he reached Carson's thighs, and Carson's cock filled a bit more in approval. Then Ronon spoke again, "I can imagine a lot of ways this could go from here. I haven't had much luck talking about this stuff with people from Earth, but I think you might be different."

"I can talk, at least," Carson said.

"I want to finish putting lotion on the rest of your skin," Ronon said. "I can't force my body not to react at all, but I can keep to touches any healer might use, and we can both ignore however much my body reacts."

Carson couldn't help glancing down at that, and the way Ronon was kneeling, with one leg between Carson's calves, hid nothing once Carson looked. The loose pants Ronon had chosen for this visit, perhaps his equivalent to lounge pants given his opinions on pajamas, were obviously tented. It didn't take a doctor's knowledge to deduce that Ronon's cock was large and he wasn't wearing anything under those pants.

"Dear god," Carson sighed as his own cock gave an impressive twitch.

"Not something any other cultures I know say in such situations. But I'm fine with that." Ronon slid his thumbs up the inside of Carson's thighs and said, "If neither of us wants to ignore this, I could be naked as I finish rubbing lotion everywhere. If my cock brushes against you and feels some of the heating effect, I certainly won't mind, although I'm thinking you'd rather feel my mouth at the end than have this lotion on your most sensitive skin tonight."

"I don't know how much I can manage," Carson said. The sight of Ronon's bare chest, and the distinctively male smell of him even over the spicy notes of the lotion, certainly had Carson wanting.

"I keep telling you, I don't need to know ahead of time. If you're happy with all of that, let me try. In a spirit of exploration. We can change directions at any time."

"Yes, please," Carson said.

"That's something I'm more than happy to hear in such situations." Ronon stood to pull off his pants. His cock was easily as large now as Carson had imagined, and almost fully erect.

Ronon crawled up Carson's body like a panther stalking prey. When his knees were just outside Carson's thighs, Ronon stopped and eased himself down as if sitting, but putting almost no weight on Carson. The larger man's balls grazed the inside of Carson's thighs, barely enough to feel. Ronon breathed in slowly, meeting Carson's eyes. Then he slathered his hands with lotion and slid them casually up Carson's hips and sides.

Carson shuddered at the gentle touch, and either his motion or the way Ronon was leaning forward brought their cocks together for the first time. The touch was still feather light, but Carson felt himself harden as if seeking more contact. Ronon's eyes grew darker as his pupils swallowed the brown ring around them.

The moment stretched as Ronon ran his hands up to Carson's shoulders and down his inner arms. That skin was so sensitized it felt aflame. Carson's body shuddered and twitched.

Ronon stroked his inner arms as if they were an erogenous zone, and in that moment, they seemed to be. At the same time, Ronon hovered above, thighs, cock, and balls, barely brushing against Carson no matter how each of them moved.

When Carson groaned, Ronon traced back up his arms and started to smooth lotion into his pecs, letting his thumbs flick Carson's nipples. "I didn't expect this tonight," Ronon said. "I wore soft clothes thinking maybe I could lie beside you, but now, it's like you're tearing me open. This line here"—Ronon traced down from Carson's sternum with both hands—"means something to Satedans, almost like your 'glory trail' but not as crude. Yes, it leads to your cock, but also to this area just above." Ronon's hands stopped, stroking just above Carson's cock, or under where the tip had managed to lift itself up from Carson's abdomen. "Do you remember what I said about the 'echna' and the desire to merge?"

Carson couldn't speak. He could barely nod. If his body had been capable of orgasm, he thought he would have come already.

Instead, Ronon's hands traced back up to his sternum. "This line runs through our centers of deepest emotion. To me it's fascinating, intimate, a place where I might tear you apart or hold you together." Ronon continued to trace his hands up and down that line, and Carson felt that touch the way Ronon described it, as a seam that held him together, now shivering beneath Ronon's hands.

Minutes seemed to pass with Ronon tracing up and down. His cock and balls rocked lightly against Carson's, more present than before, but still a tease to them both. Carson was breathing hard, but his body could barely move. All he could do was feel and watch Ronon. Ronon was watching his own hands on Carson's body. His pupils were blown, and he was breathing hard too. His cock was huge and almost purple, but every motion was carefully controlled.

Then finally Ronon said, "Let's see what happens next."

In one fluid movement Ronon shifted back, his mouth opening around Carson's cock, sucking him in slowly. The warm wetness offered ten times as much pressure as he'd been feeling before, but was still hopelessly gentle. Without ever pulling off, Ronon's tongue traced the crown, the vein. It pressed, stroked, and swirled. Carson wasn't sure if he could get any harder, but the whole time he felt like his body would come at any moment if it could.

Then he felt Ronon rubbing his cock against Carson's calf. All Carson could do was bend his knee a little bit to offer more contact. A little more pressure.

Ronon growled deep in his throat, and his thrusts against Carson's calf sped up. It was only then that Carson remembered the lotion and wondered how it felt now that Ronon had rubbed his cock all over with it.

Then Ronon sucked a tiny bit faster and harder, and Carson was amazed to feel himself falling over the edge. It was barely more than he'd been feeling for minutes, but Carson's neck arched and his breath caught as he came. Ronon sucked him through it.

Only when Carson was done did Ronon sit back and wrap his hand around his own cock. "Okay if I come like this?"

Carson reached his own hand forward, "Can I help?"

In a moment Ronon was closer, wrapping Carson's hand in with his own, thrusting into them both. "So good," was what Ronon said as he came.

A minute later, he was smiling down at Carson. "Okay if I sleep here?"

"More than okay," Carson answered.

Ronon cleaned up their mess and blotted off any extra lotion and sweat with the towels. Then he pulled back blankets and rearranged pillows until Carson was all tucked in and well supported. Ronon settled beside him carefully, only partially under the covers. But one large hand rested at Carson's hip with a finger pointing straight to his center, his echna. Carson felt claimed in a way he never had before.

#

As soon as Madison arrived for their office hours in the bots' meeting room, Murderbot spoke from behind a shelf of gadgets, "They've called an emergency city council meeting for tonight, to decide about the new tower and long-term medical care for those from Lo Seco."

"Hope they've all had time to read your proposal."

Murderbot came out from where they'd been working to say, "Not that I was allowed to sign it."

Madison shook their head and sighed on the way to their desk. "Requiring verified identity, on Ancient tech, is both awesome and stupid. But I thought you didn't want anyone to know for sure?"

"It's better they don't know until after they've read and thought about my work. But I wouldn't mind people knowing at some point, when it wouldn't hurt the impact of my writing." Murderbot caught up to Madison, and a couple of CatBots scurried out to take places on the viewing shelves made for them.

For a moment, Madison appreciated how quickly their office hours and working with BotKin had become routine. They felt at least as comfortable here as they had in the CS lab at Caltech. "You feel that way about the fanfic Kusanagi said she betas for you?"

"It's fine that she knows who I am as she reads it, because she doesn't judge me. I don't know if there will come a time when I can add BotKin to my profile on Ao3 and be taken seriously, but I think I would like that someday, if I could."

Madison first thought about how amazing that would be and then noticed that Murderbot wasn't saying "I think I feel." When talking about their writing, Murderbot seemed more confident of their feelings. "Would you let me read some of your fic?"

"Yes."

Madison was surprised again. They'd expected more equivocations or limitations at the very least.

Murderbot responded to the pause or to some nonverbal signal Madison must have given. "When Kusanagi shared your fic, she said that anyone who hacked or snooped on someone who might become a friend should decide ahead of time if they'd be willing to admit it and allow the other person to invade their privacy the same way. I decided before I ever met you that I'd admit the truth and share my work when asked."

Avoiding the distraction of trying to figure out their advisor's unique perspective on ethics, Madison focused on Murderbot and the question at hand. "But do you want me to read your stories?"

"I think I feel both hope that you'll like them and fear that you won't." The emotional hedging came back when talking about larger feelings that were harder to define. Then Murderbot added something that might call into doubt any apparent emotions, "I've run projections of your reactions several times as I gained more data about you. At this point, I would also learn from comparing my projections to your reactions."

Caught between interpretations, Madison wondered how much of their own curiosity was the equivalent of wanting new data to compare to past projections. "Okay, I'll try to give you my honest feedback on whatever you show me."

For the first time, they visited Archive of Our Own together.

Murderbot's alias turned out to include "secunit" and a number. Talk about hiding in plain sight. They'd posted dozens of stories, most short, but a few almost novel-length. None of them involved bots, and very few involved aliens or science fiction. Perhaps like the "Murderbot" character they'd chosen as their namesake, they preferred fiction a little more distant from their daily life.

Madison decided to read the most recent story first, a _Criminal Minds_ AU from Spencer Reid's point of view. By the end, Madison didn't think they'd believe it was written by a bot or anyone not from Earth, if the author wasn't standing across the room watching a documentary on street art in Boston at three times broadcast speed. Madison didn't have to wait long for the show to finish.

"Murderbot?"

"Yes."

"Do you want feedback after each story or after I've read more?"

"Now is fine." Murder strode across the room to sit in their usual place by the desk. "What did you think of that one?"

"Of all the people I know, you're the only one I could imagine writing it. And yet, it's still hard for me to believe someone who's never been to Earth and never lived in a human body, could write that way. I loved the feels. I believed the angst. Maybe I would have written Spencer as differently neurodivergent, but your version worked for me and seemed in character, especially the parts about his childhood. How did you write that without having a human childhood? I know I'm biased now, but I think I would have wanted to read the rest of your work even if I'd just stumbled across this fic randomly."

"Thank you," was all Murderbot said.

Madison couldn't help but ask, "It's not listed as a remix, but did you base it off of another story or stories?"

"I based if off of everything shown in the TV show and informed by all the other fanfic I read. But I chose to write that story from that point of view, because I find Spencer Reid relatable. People underestimate him even when they know he's smarter than them, reads faster than them, and has an eidetic memory. He also makes social mistakes that everyone else can see, and sometimes his friends explain them to him. I've had similar experiences. Sometimes I wanted his friends, especially Morgan, to be more understanding and explain more fairly, so I wrote it that way."

Madison clutched the tablet close to their chest and stared into the cameras that served as Murderbot's eyes. "That's why transformative fandom exists."

#

"We heard about an emergency meeting tonight. Is there something we should know?" Healer Taran asked casually, but the others from the Lo Seco clinic were all in the room listening.

With the dialysis machine and bioartificial liver relocated for their new arrivals, Carson was now doing his dialysis in the room with the seven visiting patients and healers. The eighth bed in the room became Carson's for the time he needed those machines. To Carson, it seemed to reinforce his ties to Pegasus along with his position in the Network of Healers—as both healer and patient. While Khun Somchai was now his doctor of record on Atlantis, Healer Taran sat beside him as the machines filtered his blood.

"It could be the first step for bringing Atlantis truly into the Network of Healers," Carson said, wishing he could have this conversation sitting fully upright, and not feeling so weak with several tubes hooked up to his arm. But he was better off than some others in the room, and he didn't want to leave them without information or to make decisions on their behalf. Earthlings had already done enough of that. "I wish I could give you a tour of Atlantis first. What you've seen in the infirmary or through windows probably isn't enough."

"I hope someday to see more of this place," Taran said, "Both because it is beautiful and because it is important to you."

Others around the room nodded or murmured ascent. Carson said, "Depending on the outcome of the meeting tomorrow, you may have a chance to move to another tower. It was scheduled to open for new residents within a few days anyway, but there's been a bit of a stir around a proposal to run this new tower differently. Each floor would decide its own rules on some issues, everyone in the tower would coordinate on others, and the city council would only have a say on larger matters. How that will work is mostly spelled out in the proposal, which I'm sure is available as audio if you want to listen to the whole thing. The part that affects you is that you might be given a floor, from the very start. So long as one or more from this initial group remained in residence, you could continue to offer rooms to patients for long term recovery or to healers who came here to study. We might be able to set up these machines"—Carson gestured to the two filtering his blood and a few others in the room—"And some physical therapy equipment in that tower as well."

"The way you use 'floor' does not make sense in my language," Lansol, the other patient who needed a new liver, ventured after a click to draw attention.

"Sorry, I should have explained better." Carson felt much too tired to explain, so he asked Hanso, who had been monitoring the medical equipment as if it didn't have enough alert and safety features of its own, "Hanso, could you explain about towers and floors and the size of Atlantis?"

"While I am allowed in this medical area, I am not allowed to train with our visitors," Hanso answered.

Carson closed his eyes and bit back a few choice words he almost never said aloud. "Can we ask them to join the training list as Ronon did?"

"The standard for informed consent from visitors is higher, as it was with the inoculations."

"Don't all these restrictions interfere with doing your work?"

"Without them I would not be allowed to work at all."

Swallowing hard, Carson didn't know if he wanted to cry or curse. "Oh, Hanso. Don't you mind at all? Do you know what you want for yourself?"

The three tiny lights below Hanso's camera lit up and seemed to stay on for longer than usual. "I want to work. Sometimes I want to do certain work at certain times. Other BotKin can want more. I do not want to make more decisions or explain more."

Carson was no expert with bots, but the desire not to explain or decide any more was familiar and sounded like what Hanso most wanted. Carson was also suddenly aware of Taran and a couple of others watching intently. "Fair enough. Thank you for explaining. Could you pull up a tower schematic on a tablet and then go explain this situation to Dr. Biro. See if she can help?"

Hanso flashed three lights and handed Carson a tablet with a cut out view of the main tower selected.

"Thank you," Carson said as the bot left. Then to the others in the room, he said, "Please pass this around and I'll try to explain."

Taran took the tablet but said, "If you're too tired right now, we can wait. You are a patient too, at the moment."

"We've started, and this is important. Let's see how far we can get." Carson began, "That shows you the tower we're in right now as if it were cut open through the center. It is the largest tower on Atlantis, and for a long time it was the only one we had time to clean and make ready for use. There are over seventy floors in this tower alone, and the entire population of Lo Seco could easily live here. This infirmary is on the floor marked in bright yellow. Many people also live and work on this floor. So a floor in this case means all the rooms on one level of the tower. We can walk to all rooms on this floor without going up or down. Does that make sense?"

"That explains why your medical center is so large," Healer Follaz said as the tablet reached him. "But why move us and this medical equipment to another tower?"

"I don't think anyone would force you to move, not unless there was a huge outbreak or catastrophe that required all the space in this infirmary." Carson tried to guess what most needed to be explained. "Because I, as a healer, already had a room near this infirmary, I was able to move back there after a few days in here. That mattered to me, and I think most people here believe that those staying more a than a few days would rather not be in the infirmary if they don't have to be. It was mostly luck that you arrived when a new tower was about to open up. It is a much smaller tower than this, only twenty floors, with room for ten to twenty people on each floor, who would share an area for cooking and socializing. I hope to move there, to the top floor, with a group of people who are like family to me. Do you think it would be a good idea to have a floor run by our Network of Healers? Do you think you'd like to live there for a while?"

Taran was the first to speak. "There is something I need to know first, Healer Carson, if it is not too personal."

Taking a deep breath with his eyes closed, Carson wondered what she wanted to know. "Please ask," he said, opening his eyes to meet hers.

"Why didn't you want to come back here?"

Carson coughed out something like a laugh. He'd been asked the same questions by his psychologist, Khun Somchai, and Ronon. But Taran asked as an outsider, trying to understand unknown risks to herself and her patients. "I am embarrassed to admit it, but I thought I was dying, and I didn't want to argue with those who treat me like family about end of life decisions." He thought about going into stasis before, not expecting Dr. Keller or anyone else to find a cure for his deterioration as a clone. Not knowing if he would ever be taken out, or if he'd be called upon one last time for information and then die, either among friends or future strangers. He hadn't wanted to face that again. While he knew how to write an end of life medical care directive, he knew Rodney at least would have begged him to go into stasis until they could find a cure. Carson had been a coward and wanted to die a respected healer and be done with it all.

"I can understand that," Danisius said, and her sister beside her nodded along. "Pilialim and I would be happy to spend our time wherever is easiest for the healers. But we are happy to move to the new tower if that might help establish a healing center here."

Taran still had questions. "Neither you nor anyone here knew you had a cure and vaccine already available to fight the Bad Blood? You didn't even guess when you became ill?"

"I'm sorry, Taran." Carson offered her his free hand and she took it. "I am talking to a healer here who deals with unhealthy thinking about what was going on in my head. But it is also hard to explain how far away the people who found that cure are and how unlikely it was. Once the Lanteans realized they could save people here, besides me, Dr. Biro worked hard to make sure it was safe, and no one tried to stop her from bringing what she had to you. I've made a lot of mistakes in the past, as have others here, but I still believe we can do good work. If the Network of Healers is permanently represented on Atlantis, I believe we can do better."

"Then I would like to stay for a while and help if I can," Healer Taran said.

"As would I," Healer Follaz agreed.

"I would appreciate a less medical place, if possible," Lansol said. The other two patients quickly agreed. Everything was pretty much settled before Dr. Biro showed up with Hanso.

While Biro went around the room explaining about the BotKin, Carson closed his eyes and finally managed to relax. He couldn't sleep because he was too amused listening to Biro answer everyone's questions not just about BotKin and the new tower proposal, but about Atlantis in general and their medical practices in particular. When they found out that Biro, in addition to being a healer and an elder, was a member of the city council, Carson thought she was probably more esteemed than him. He was more than fine with that.

Nonetheless, Taran stayed by his side and kept hold of his hand for the remainder of his treatment. By the time Carson was ready to leave the infirmary, Biro had detailed informed consent statements allowing each of their visitors to interact with the BotKin in general and also as part of the new tower proposal.

#

It turned out city council meetings on alien flying cities were as boring as any meetings Madison had ever felt obliged to attend. Lieutenant Colonel Lorne was introduced as the council secretary and took them through the most boring parts, the reading of minutes and resolutions that needed no actions to be taken at this time. Madison was sure it would be more interesting with Murderbot providing commentary, but bots weren't allowed in the public meeting room and since the meetings were recorded and available as a matter of public record, Murderbot hadn't set up an open radio connection like they'd used during the birthday party.

At first Madison tried to listen, but soon they reverted to counting the tiles in a wall mosaic (436 across by 180 high). It wasn't like any other art they'd seen on Atlantis, with some tiles resembling broken bits of pottery and others carefully painted stone or wood. There was no picture or overall pattern involved, but the arrangement of colors was pleasing, and Madison assumed the materials carried added significance to the artists involved. The entire wall-sized work was immaculately polished and the grout between the tiles scrubbed spotless—and by the time Madison got around to speculating on who cleaned the mosaic, they'd completely lost track of whatever Lorne was saying.

That's when Madison pulled out their tablet and gave in to reading more of Murderbot's fanfic until Dr. Cirillo, introduced as the council chairperson and Atlantis Expedition leader, opened up the floor for public comment. Madison was gratified to hear two early comments reference the proposal for a "Community Led Tower" that Carson, Kusanagi, Ronon, and Madison had officially authored. They wondered if either of those comments came from gamers who'd messaged Murderbot saying they'd support the proposal at the meeting.

Of course, the listed authors had all read and helped with parts, but the main author, Murderbot, went without credit because bots couldn't have verified identities and signatures in the Ancient systems the city used for such documents. Madison was annoyed about that and wanted Murderbot to receive credit as soon as possible, but they'd all agreed gaining BotKin rights within the new tower was a more important fight.

Madison had been so caught up in their own thoughts that they missed whatever comment caused Carson to raise his hand. He was chosen immediately to speak, and Madison wondered if his history on Atlantis or his place up front influenced that. Whatever forces were at play, the room grew unexpectedly silent as Carson was passed the microphone.

"After several years away from Atlantis," Carson began, his voice slow and measured, "It's wonderful to return and find twice as many scientists working here. To see the South Pier alive with children and gardens. To see our local Gate team liaisons rising through the ranks and a new program allowing grad students from Earth to study and work here. Atlantis has a great deal to offer. We all have a great deal to gain.

"The people that someone referred to as 'medical refugees' are more than that term implies. Certainly they are people we can help. But have any of you asked what perspectives, skills, or knowledge they might bring to our community? They also brought two healers from the Network of Healers that I've been working with for years and who are now sponsoring new clinical trials and possibly an organ donor network with Dr. Biro. With 85 percent of the buildings on Atlantis still unused or underutilized, we're in an ideal position to function as a teaching hospital or at least another medical center within the Network of Healers. If some of the healers or patients involved could live in the new tower, I believe they would benefit Atlantis as much as we might benefit them. I would also be happy to remain on Atlantis in whatever capacity is necessary to facilitate such a program." When the room stayed silent around him, Carson smiled and said, "Thank you for listening."

Kusanagi raised her hand in the stillness and was recognized next. "I hope I speak for many here when I say it would be an honor to have Dr. Carson serving on Atlantis once again and we are very glad to have him back." There was applause, which there had not been before, and Kusanagi smiled and nodded to Carson but did not relinquish the microphone. "I would also mention that Carson has been assisted since his return by one of the BotKin, MedBot 3, also known as Hanso. Hanso was not able to accompany Carson tonight because of the current restrictions on bots in most public spaces. Perhaps this is a moment to remember that bots, especially the very advanced BotKin, can be a critical part of our community as well. They could assist with Carson's teaching hospital program as well as throughout the new tower. There is a basement room in that tower designed with bot access in mind to be a fungus farm, and one of the BotKin, H511, has already asked me how they could apply to work there. I humbly ask the city council to consider what these and other bots offer to our community with the opening of this new tower."

The entreaty in her speech was so unlike what Madison was used to hearing from Kusanagi, that they wondered if their advisor treated this as role playing in a larger game. Several hands shot up around the room, including that of the ponytailed scientist who hadn't liked Madison bringing a bot to the hallway where they lived. Sure enough, there were plenty of concerns and fears about bots included with the next few comments:

"They're recording all the time, even when they're not allowed to share it."

"The only reason the BotKin aren't filling half the science and maintenance jobs is because no one can force them to work on anything and the Ancients put in safeguards to slow them down. Otherwise, they're smarter and learn faster than any of us."

"Get over yourself. Declassification is a greater threat to your job. Plenty of scientists on Earth learn faster than you. The bots do a lot of work humans don't want or can't safely do." Madison actually had to check that the person saying that wasn't their uncle, but he probably would have been snarkier and spoken longer.

"The BotKin program was already halted once due to safety concerns. There could be a robot revolution any day. It only makes sense to limit them in any way we can." Madison found their hands clenching into fists at that stupidity. But they didn't think they could speak in any helpful way at such a meeting.

"Revolutions have reasons. Most of the BotKin work all the time and that's all they want. If one of them wants to grow mushrooms and another wants to help patients in the new tower, isn't that a win for both bots and humans?"

"BotKin aren't safe and never will be. They think and make decisions in ways we can't understand and could kill any of us in a minute."

"True of me too." Ronon said it without needing a microphone or to rise from Carson's side. With that one brief comment, he plunged the room into silence again.

Madison counted the seconds until someone dressed in smoothly spun cloth in dark blues and greens, stood up and was given the microphone. "Atlantis is my home now. As is Pegasus. We embrace a time of prosperity. A chance to build together. If 85 percent of Atlantis is unused, let those with ideas try. Let each person show what they can do, whether they come to us as a Runner, a BotKin, a patient, or a healer."

The discussion after that became more mundane. People expressed concerns about one tower having a different decision-making model than others or better access to 24-hour medical care. Several people thought there was too much of a rush to change rules for this tower and the current set of medical refugees, a term that was contested again. By the time public comments wound down, Madison was tense from too much time in an emotionally charged crowd and not at all sure how the council would vote.

They were a bit surprised when the vote was immediate, public, and spoken aloud. There seemed to be some predetermined order to who voted that Madison didn't understand. Cirillo went first, and voted to maintain the status quo. Biro went next, and voted for the new proposal. Lorne voted for the status quo, but proposed forming a committee to consider future options. Then all eyes turned to Teyla, suggesting she was next.

Teyla sat silent and still until the entire room grew quiet around her. "It is my understanding that this council may make no decision until all parties involved have been given a chance to speak." Cirillo nodded, forehead wrinkled in concern. Lorne on the other hand, set his jaw and looked prepared for a dressing down. "Surely the BotKin have been unjustly excluded from our meeting. I would also like to know if the new healers or those in their care were offered access and if they wish to contribute."

"You wish to delay voting on this matter until our next meeting?" Cirillo asked.

"As this is officially an emergency meeting, I ask instead for a one-hour recess and the issuing of an explicit invitation for those parties to join us here or provide authenticated video testimony."

Biro offered, "I can arrange for authenticated video from the infirmary, but BotKin are not eligible for such authentication."

"Then we must allow them here," Teyla said with a raise of her eyebrows.

"Agreed," Biro said, and the rest of the city council echoed her.

Madison rose from their seat, frantic to see how the BotKin would react to this development. They were halfway to the transporter when they realized it was after 8 PM, and they weren't allowed in the BotKin meeting room.

#

Rodney spent the hour-long recess caffeinating and eating. Both John and Biro had told him the best way he could help with the new tower proposal and securing one of those new rooms for himself was to attend the city council meeting but stay silent. They would never appreciate what a sacrifice that was for him. People spouted stupid all over the place. He wanted to complain about the hours he worked and threaten to stop safeguarding their power, water, and data supplies whenever they fussed about BotKin threatening their jobs. He wanted to argue for Data and the other CatBots having access to the new tower and being better people than most of the humans at the meeting. He wanted to distract himself and John with plans for the new toys he'd designed.

But the toys were supposed to be a surprise. And even Rodney knew saying or doing any of that at the meeting wouldn't help in any way. He just wished it could all be over already.

Rodney took the last brownie to go with his fresh cup of coffee before making his way back to his seat.

#

Ronon and Biro had conspired to make Carson rest during the hour-long recess. While he would have liked to speak with Healer Taran again before they all decided on whatever video comments they'd like to make, he knew that was partly his desire to influence what they would say. That wasn't the role he'd chosen when he joined the Network of Healers. He and the other founders had chosen to be equals with each new member, not to put themselves or anyone else above the others.

Now, as Carson made his way back to the city council meeting, Hanso pushed his chair. Ronon had split off to collect snacks that someone had provided during the recess, and Carson wasn't surprised to see him returning with two plates stacked with fruits, vegetables, and cheese.

For a moment, Carson wished the space for his wheelchair wasn't so visible at the front of the room. He'd never liked eating in public without a table. But he knew he needed to eat more, and while he'd rather have gone to sleep early or at least taken Ronon to bed one way or another, he wouldn't have slept well without hearing the council's decision. Besides, it might help for people to see him there between Ronon and Hanso, and they both cared as least as much as he did about the council's decision.

The presentation began with authenticated video from the infirmary. Two patients had chosen to speak. Both expressed their gratitude to the people of Atlantis for helping them and others. Then they both volunteered several ways they hoped to contribute to the community on Atlantis, regardless of how long they stayed or where they were allowed to live.

Then Healer Taran was shown. She spoke mostly about the Network of Healers and how even those communities who seemed to have the weakest medical systems had brought forward medicines and ideas that had benefited others. She concluded by saying, "I know that Healer Carson does not see himself as a leader among us, and that modesty does both him and Atlantis credit. In years past, there were those who blamed Lanteans for waking more Wraith or disrupting trade agreements. Through hard work and dedication, Healer Carson has demonstrated the true potential of your people if you can find a place with our communities. If Healer Carson's recent illness makes it harder for him to travel, then honoring him with a clinic as part of the larger network he helped build seems only fitting. I am one among many who would be honored to come here to consult, learn, teach, and most importantly, continue forward in friendship with both Healer Carson and the people of Atlantis."

Carson quietly wiped a tear from his eye, embarrassed at how Taran framed the clinic as a way of honoring him. Ronon lay a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. The touch gave Carson strength to sit and smile appreciatively, the best he could do both personally and politically.

"That's all from the infirmary," Dr. Biro said. "Any BotKin present are now welcome to speak."

Without any visible signals between them, Hanso rolled forward first. "I am MedBot 3, also known as Hanso. I am currently occupied assisting Dr. Beckett with his recovery and both Drs. Biro and Beckett with research. I am pleased with my current work and do not intend to take anyone else's job. I can already identify enough work not being done by others to keep me busy for over 100 years. Improved access would improve the effectiveness of my work. Thank you."

When Hanso rolled back, Carson whispered, "Nicely said."

Three lights blinked.

The next bot to speak was twice Hanso's size and began with, "I am H511. I speak today for the H series BotKin and the CatBots. We do not want anyone else's jobs. Every building on Atlantis was designed with our work preferences in mind. We request access to do the work we were designed to do. I would like to tend the basement mushroom farm and the roof garden in the new tower, among other tasks. The CatBots were also designed to monitor and improve the medical and emotional health of people. They ask for better access to those who request their help."

The last bot to speak was Murderbot, who hesitated, much the way a shy human would. "I did not want to speak, but both BotKin and BioKin convinced me I should. I gave up my original designation for my chosen name, Murderbot." There were whispers around the room, but somehow no one shouted out. "If some of you need an explanation, I named myself after a fictional character written by a human named Martha Wells. At the end of the fourth book in the Murderbot series, a human friend asks Murderbot to consider making their story public to help those fighting for bots and others rights."

"It's a slippery slope!" Someone in the audience shouted. Carson could not see who. "How long before they demand a seat on the city council or take control of Atlantis for themselves?"

"Out of order," Lorne spoke calmly into a microphone. "It is Murderbot's turn to speak, and I remind everyone that this and all city council meetings are recorded."

"We have a right to meet without them. I did not opt in to work with bots." That was a different voice.

"The next person to speak out of turn will be removed from this meeting," Lorne announced.

"The BotKin are not asking to work with anyone who does not opt in to work with us. We have no wish to interfere in decisions that do not affect us. All we are asking is for freedom to work and learn in more areas of Atlantis, areas that were designed for BotKin to access, and to do work for which BotKin are especially well suited."

At that Cirillo motioned to be recognized and then tapped his mic. "While I appreciate seeing work done efficiently, the proposal for the new tower suggests BotKin could have the same rights to access, decision making, and residency as BioKin"—he cleared his throat pointedly— "the term used for humans in this proposal. The request for such rights as well as representation at this meeting suggests we're being asked to recognize more than the work BotKin do. What kind of recognition are you trying to claim?"

Open metal components shifted downward in Murderbot the way human shoulders would slouch. A chin that existed only as the bottom point of a triangle, lowered and then raised. "I think you already know. While I am not eligible for a verified identity, I wrote most of the proposal under discussion. I coined the term BioKin."

The room burst into discussion, some of it bordering on shouting, including phrases like "What?" and "I knew it!" and a surprisingly clear "Skynet!"

Lorne called for order.

When the room quieted, Murderbot continued, "As with my namesake, I have given away pieces of myself to others all along, as you may realize humans do, too. Today, I've agreed to give away one more. Like Martha Wells, I choose for part of my work to be writing fiction. She writes about bots. I write about humans. Dr. Kusanagi can help those interested to find several of the novels and stories I have previously published online, along with data she compiled to rate my works' originality and to show statistically that my stories were not plagiarized or remixed based on any detectable patterns. You can check if you need to, but I'd rather those who could, try to enjoy the stories first. I don't claim to be a great writer, but I have chosen this work as any other person would, as a person writing about people. I will read a small sample now:

_"_ _Spencer picked up the paper and read the entire paragraph to his teacher. It explained about the Millikan Gifted Magnet School and setting up appointments for intelligence testing on Thursday when the district psychologist would be visiting. All Spencer knew about intelligence testing was what his mother quoted from F. Scott Fitzgerald: 'The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function.' Spencer often functioned with two opposed ideas in his mind, like thinking his teacher must have seen enough to realize he was being bullied and thinking her reaction demonstrated she had not understood at all. Confusing as the two thoughts were, Spencer was able to read for his teacher and answer her questions, so he thought he should be able to pass the intelligence test for the magnet school."_

The room was silent as Murderbot went to sit on an ordinary chair in the audience. A few scientists were nodding along and a couple of Athosians were listening to a whispered explanation from the person next to them, who Carson guessed as Earth military by his haircut. Then someone began to clap and others joined in.

When the brief applause ended, Teyla announced, "I am ready to cast my vote. I vote in favor of the new proposal, including community led decision-making and bot access for the new tower."

Dr. Khosa spoke next, "I also vote in favor of the proposal."

Cirillo said stiffly, "Any addendums or alterations from the previous vote?"

Lorne said with a barely concealed smile, "I'd like to change my vote to support the new proposal and modify my suggested committee to look into improving access for bots and humans to the new tower and connecting piers. For the study period, I suggest we open the South and Southwest Piers to BotKin." He added as an aside, "Since they'll be moving in and all."

Cirillo responded, "Noted and tentatively agreed." After looking to each member or the council once more he said, "The proposal for the new tower is accepted as written. Those specified in the proposal may begin moving in tomorrow. Movement of patients and infirmary supplies will be at the discretion of Dr. Srisuk. Meeting adjourned."

#

That night, Rodney had two attachments ready to test. He'd invited John over to see a movie after the council meeting, but John barely waited for the door to close before greeting him with an enthusiastic kiss.

"Does that mean you don't want to watch a movie?" Rodney asked.

"I'm happy to start with a movie." John slid a hand down to stroke Rodney's ass.

"Or would you rather hear about the added features I designed for our vibrating toy? Or maybe both?" Rodney tugged John over to the bed where he could view the inert forms of Rodney's latest creations: one cup shaped and the other like a string of beads. Both metallic and shiny.

"I'm almost afraid to ask." John looked but didn't touch. "I thought you were up to something nefarious during that meeting on Lo Seco."

"I prefer to think of my work as depraved. It's really just cosplay for sex toys." Rodney lifted one of the two covers he'd made from an Ancient material with properties similar to memory metal but more programable. "This one is like a winter coat for our little ball of fun." He collected their vibrating toy from the drawer by his bed and noticed John was tracking his every move. Rodney slid the string for removing the sex toy through a hole in the larger, cup shape. When the ball seated in place, the Ancient metal reshaped itself to cover the original toy.

"So it's a little larger," John stated the obvious, as he was sadly prone to do.

Rodney couldn't help but smile. "That's only the first programmed change, when it comes into contact with the toy. Watch what each change in the vibration of the ball does to its fancy coat." Rodney put the covered ball in one of John's hands and the remote in the other.

With only a small lift of his eyebrows, John turned the toy on. At the first mild vibrations, the Ancient metal became bumpy, twenty-four tiny half spheres poking out from the original, all carrying vibrations. When John switched the toy to pulsing, a set of four small bumps merged into a larger bump with each pulse. "Will we be able to feel that?" John asked, his thumb stroking the surface reverently.

"Even better. The shape change will cause the ball to shift position with each pulse. The effect may seem a bit random from outside, but you'll definitely feel it." Rodney wrapped John's hand more tightly around the toy, wanting him to imagine it clearly. "On the next two settings, it shifts according to those pulse patterns."

"And on the high setting?" John flicked through, probably guessing the answer. Instead of twenty-four small lumps, the toy now had six large protrusions, doubling its diameter at the widest points and adding a great deal of vibrating surface area. "That's gonna feel like a lot."

"And almost certainly rub against something sensitive."

John pressed forward to kiss Rodney, not at all accidentally trapping the toy between them so it vibrated against Rodney right nipple. Rodney plunged his tongue into John's mouth and let the kiss deepen. Then he pulled away and said as sweetly as he could, "Don't you want to learn about my other creation?"

Pulling back a few inches, John turned the toy off. The cover became smooth but couldn't be removed until Rodney snapped it several times with a fingernail. "I didn't want any chance of it detaching while still inside someone."

Then Rodney picked up the cover that looked like a string of beads and asked, "You ever played with something like this?"

John shook his head.

Rodney threaded the string of the toy through the hollow half bead at the front, which sealed on contact much as the previous toy had. "Even without vibration, a string of beads like this can fill a person up and shift in interesting ways as someone changes positions. As a grad student working alone in lab at night, I once challenged myself to finish assembling a pulley system without taking a string of beads out or masturbating."

"Did you succeed?"

"Of course," Rodney preened. "But it took me twenty minutes to do what should have taken ten. I was hard as graphene the whole time, and some of the ways I had to stretch and twist almost had me coming in my pants."

"And these vibrate? Won't that be overwhelming?"

"The whole set only vibrates on the top setting. On the lowest setting, it's only the original toy really vibrating, except for what naturally transmits through the metal to the others. On the two simple pulse settings, different balls will actively vibrate in turn. And on the alternating high and low pulse setting, half of them will be active on the high part and only one plus the original on the low setting."

"I'd be happy to try that one out on you and just watch."

"As you wish." From the look on John's face, he caught the obvious reference, but rather than make something of it he said, "Now?"

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be." In fact, Rodney had washed thoroughly and done a little prep himself. He had spent a couple of years charting and predicted what sort of sex John enjoyed. Even if their relationship had taken an unexpected turn in other ways, he hadn't expected John to volunteer for this toy first. Of course, Rodney could have built or traded for a second vibrating toy, but he wanted to have his full attention on John when he tried one of Rodney's creations. So for now, they'd take turns with the toys.

After John pulled Rodney's shirt off, he also removed his own. Rodney smiled and reached out to unfasten John's pants while John unfastened his. Having both of them naked with lots of bare skin to share sensations certainly appealed to Rodney.

John probably knew that about him.

When they lay down on the bed, John prepped him carefully, stoking Rodney's inner thigh with his clean hand as he lubed him up good and slippery with the other.

"I'm ready." Rodney wanted the experience to last a while, but John's attention combined with anticipation had Rodney hard and overeager already. "Start with the smallest ball on the end farthest from the string."

That ball went in easily after John's careful prep, but by the third ball, Rodney was starting to feel it, both inside and at his rim. "Do you need a minute?" John asked when Rodney bit back a moan.

"I don't know if I can hold out for the whole thing tonight."

"Think of it like your pully experiment. You wouldn't want to give in until you meet all your goals, would you?"

John definitely knew him well in some ways. Nonetheless, John took his time and only stroked Rodney's thigh and belly in a mostly soothing manner as he pushed in the next bead. And the next. Then his hand on Rodney's abdomen stilled and pressed just a little. "I can feel them inside you." Rodney pushed into the touch. John gave an easy smiled and said, "That is so hot."

John pressed again and Rodney groaned as the beads shifted and rubbed his prostate. Just like a good scientist would, John repeated his pressing motion a couple more times, watching the effect it had on Rodney. A drop of precum splashed from Rodney's red and angry erection. "Please," Rodney begged.

Another bead pressed inside, but John mercifully stopped helping them toward that spot. One more bead stretched Rodney's hole, and he thought that was all of them, but wasn't even sure of his counting anymore.

Then the vibration started and Rodney cried out. He was so full and suddenly he was shivering everywhere. It wasn't just the vibrations inside, Rodney thought he might explode.

A hand rested on his forehead. His eyes had closed again without Rodney realizing. He opened them to stare at John. The flecks of green in John's eyes were barely visible around wide pupils. The soft look of attention John gave him grounded Rodney as much as the palm on his forehead. When John ran his fingernails through Rodney's hair, his spine arched automatically and the vibrating mass inside him shifted. Rodney screamed again, but this time he was only overwhelmed in a good way.

He reached out to run a hand down John's chest, slightly furry. His abs, enviably hard. The slight trail of hair that led to John's erection. He was fully erect, maybe not as far along as Rodney, but he'd been totally getting off on this before Rodney even touched him. "Like what you see?" Rodney managed.

"So much. And knowing you designed the tech that lets me take you apart is even better."

Before Rodney could come up with a snarky reply, John switched the toy to sudden bursts of vibration, and even though Rodney knew only a couple of the balls inside him were actually vibrating, the changes in vibration and position every second were too chaotic to predict, too rapid for him to adjust. His eyes slid closed and Rodney couldn't focus on anything except the pulses inside him. Bursts of pleasure. Motion that felt like something huge plundering him, pulling him apart. His balls were tightening up. The slightest press on his cock would make him come in seconds. But Rodney tried to hang on, wanted to see how much his body could take, needed to experience the whole thing.

Eventually, even the constant, sudden sensory bursts settled into something known. Rodney became aware that he was making small keening noises with each exhale. John's fingers were still in his hair, rubbing more gently now. "You back with me?" John asked.

Rodney realized his hand was still on John's cock, holding on. He hoped he hadn't squeezed too tightly in his distraction. He guessed that the hot leaking state of John's erection meant he'd enjoyed whatever reactions Rodney's body had displayed while Rodney's attention was focused inward.

"Rodney, can you answer?" John asked.

Barely able to process the words or that he must not have answered the first time, Rodney managed to nod.

"Then you're ready for more." It wasn't really a question. John changed the pattern of vibrations. While the three second bursts were hard to even breathe through when one of the vibrating balls was on or near his prostate, that was only one third of the time. Rodney had a chance to regroup and anticipate each round.

Then the pattern switched to half the beads vibrating between each round of only two. Rodney could barely catch his breath most times, found himself gasping after who knew how long. "Easy Rodney, only one more setting after this."

But Rodney was losing it. He could barely take in enough air. The vibrations inside were shaking his tight balls and hard cock enough that he wasn't sure he needed external pressure anymore.

When John switched the toy to the final setting, Rodney's whole body seemed to vibrate in time. He was completely full of shifting, vibrating pleasure and it exploded out of him the only way it could. A spurt of hot come splashed all the way up to Rodney chest. John's finger pressed wet against Rodney's left nipple, smearing the come that had landed nearby. Rodney arched into the touch, shaking, coming apart and coming hard.

Then John's hand was slick against Rodney's cock, pulling every last drop out of him. The vibrations inside only stopped when Rodney couldn't come anymore. Now he was empty and full and exhausted and didn't think he could deal with any of it himself.

"I'll pull the toy out as gently as I can, just take a breath." John's voice was rough as if he'd come as well. Rodney hoped so, because he didn't know where his own hands were anymore. His whole body was shaken and still shaking. After he took a deep breath, the first ball was tugged out. Rodney whimpered, but each ball after that was smaller. He felt extremely stretched and relaxed. Not wanting to open his eyes, he trusted John to take care of whatever needed doing.

At some point, he felt wet wipes cleaning his skin. A sheet covered him, sending waves of pleasure across all of his skin. He was still vibrating a little. Like he was high. John shifted beneath him until Rodney was lying half in John's lap.

For a long time, Rodney drifted between sleep and an over-awareness of his own skin. When he woke for real, the scent of sex was all around him, but John was stroking his side chastely, from the other side of the sheet. His head was resting on John's lap, and of all things, John was watching "The Princess Bride" on Rodney's laptop.

"You great, big dork," Rodney teased, finding his throat unexpected dry and hoarse. John passed him the water bottle Rodney kept by his bed. He sat up a little to drink and leaned against John's side.

It wasn't until he set the water aside that John paused the movie and turned to him very seriously. Running fingers along each side of Rodney's face and down his neck, John said, "I love you."

There was nothing Rodney could do. He leaned in and kissed the dork. Then he pulled back enough to say, "I love you, too." It came out a little less serious sounding, because Rodney couldn't help smiling far too wide. After all, he was a total dork, too.

John surprised him by continuing, "I never expected to get this far in a relationship. While I'm uncomfortable with how some of it happened, I can't condemn the part on Terangine, because I don't see any other path to get us here. I'm happy. I don't even mind being 50. The Terangines can keep that one memory, because I'd rather have this."

Rodney kissed him again. At first he was tender, working through his own emotional backlog after a few intense days. Then John started to get silly, making sloppy noises or sucking on his lower lip.

After a while Rodney pulled back and asked John, "Do you want to watch the rest of your movie?"

"If you're not too tired, I keep wondering what that other toy would feel like inside me, if I was trying to watch a movie."

Rodney checked the screen. There were only about twenty minutes left. He checked in with his body, and while he might not come again anytime soon, waking up to emotional declarations appeared to be a turn on for him. As was John asking for a toy Rodney had designed.

"Sounds great."

They didn't restart the movie until John was well prepped and the toy positioned inside. By that point there had been enough teasing and flirting that Rodney was half hard again despite himself.

"Do you want me to start the toy or the movie first?" Rodney asked.

"The toy, so we can both appreciate your handiwork without distraction."

Rodney switched it on and watched John hum in pleasure. "Oh yeah, that's much better than the original version." When Rodney placed his hand on John's lower abdomen and rubbed a bit, John gasped. "Okay, that's—" John seemed at a loss for words.

"Maybe we'll save that experiment for another time." He shifted his hand to rest high on John's thigh instead. "We have a movie to watch."

Naturally, Rodney watched the reflection of John on the screen more than he watched the movie. As soon as John seemed to really be paying attention, Rodney switched the ball to the next pattern. He could tell instantly that the fast pulses with the ball shifting toward one suddenly larger protrusion or another were a winner. John's eyes went wide and his mouth fell open.

Rodney ran two fingers along his lower lip and John sucked them in. After a few sucks that seemed to actually calm John down a bit, Rodney pulled out his wet finger and used them to squeeze and rub John's right nipple. Normally John wasn't as sensitive there as Rodney was, but now he wriggled, which clearly shifted the ball inside on a new trajectory, and Rodney had to catch the laptop and move it further down the bed. He paused the screen as he took a couple minutes to play with John's newly sensitive nipples and watch the man writhe.

As John finally calmed down, Rodney said, "I had to pause the movie. Do you think you're up to watching a bit more now?"

John bucked up into the sheet and then repeated the motion as if just realizing he could get friction on his cock that way.

"No cheating," Rodney declared as he pulled back the sheets, leaving them both naked as he restarted the movie. John sat back smiling, only adjusting his ass a little with each burst of motion from the toy inside him.

Rodney waited until John had settled into that rhythm and was at least looking at the movie before he took the toy to the next pattern, the longer pulses that Rodney had found a bit more predictable with the other version of the toy. The motions of John's hips slowed at first. Then one combination must have hit very close to home, because John closed his eyes and his face went lax in pleasure. Three seconds later he opened his eyes, glanced at Rodney with a smile, and then looked back at the laptop screen.

Fifteen seconds later, the toy must have affected close enough the same location, because John's eyes closed again. Rodney watched cycle after cycle, wondering if the toy would shift out of position or John's body would stop responding to a sensation that was predictable, but only happened every sixth turn. Rodney watched for eighteen minutes until the movie ended. The cycle repeated sixty times. For three seconds each cycle John closed his eyes. If anything, he was enjoying those three seconds more by the end. His cock had started to leak a little precum the last couple times.

"You stopped squirming," Rodney said as he set the laptop aside.

"I didn't want to risk shifting the toy. Besides, you let me make it through the movie."

"You were too much fun to watch."

"That all you want to do? I was thinking you might want to sit on my lap for the last couple patterns."

"You think I'll be able to feel the vibrations?"

"I think I'd like to feel your cock next to mine."

Rodney straddled John, placing their cocks side by side, but not applying any pressure yet.

"So good," John said, eyes closing for longer than three seconds. Rodney pushed the toy to the next pattern and sure enough, he could feel the stronger vibrations right through John. If he leaned forward, he could feel the weaker half of that cycle. That also meant he was adding pressure to John's cock and the toy during what would have been the less stimulating portion.

"Oh, god. I could come like this. I don't know if the next part could be any better. Don't stop."

Rodney had no intention of stopping. He gave John a minute to enjoy Rodney playing his part along with the toy before he said, "You have to at least try the final setting. If you decide this is better, we'll come back to it."

"Okay," John's eyes were still closed and he was breathing hard. He might have agreed to anything in that moment.

Rodney took the toy to the final sustained vibrations setting. He could very much feel John vibrating under him. Their cocks were grazing each other, but Rodney didn't lean forward. He watched John pant his way through it, barely able to shift his ass into or away from sensation with Rodney firmly planted in his lap.

When John seemed to have some control of his body, Rodney leaned forward and kissed him. It was mostly Rodney licking into John's mouth as John panted. Their cocks were pressed between them, and plenty of other skin was slipping and vibrating together. "You want to come like this John, or go back to the previous setting?"

"Previous," John said.

"Okay, but I have to cycle through all the others to get there." Rodney stayed pressed in close as he took John through each of the previous settings, letting each run for at least half a minute as he watched and felt John experiencing it. Not only could Rodney feel all the vibrations through John's body, but their cocks were rubbing together, slick with sweat and precum. Rodney didn't know how John was holding out, but he loved the show, and he was more than ready to come again with John.

Finally, when they were back at the three seconds of stronger and three seconds of weaker vibration John had preferred, Rodney returned to his rhythm of pressing forward only on the weaker part of the pattern.

"Hand," John said, totally strung out on sensation but able to say that clearly enough.

Rodney wrapped his hand around both of their cocks and gave a few lazy, loose strokes that didn't match the pattern of vibrations at all. John bucked up into his hand anyway. Perhaps John couldn't help but thrust in rhythm with the vibrations, but after a few repetitions, he was doing it double time. The muscles on his body stood out, shiny with sweat, and Rodney couldn't help being impressed that his lover still had so much stamina. Tightening his grip just a little and adding a twist at the end of each stroke, Rodney sent them both over the edge and all the way through.

Then he turned the toy off and pulled it out before John could mind. Rodney even managed a hasty clean up with the sheet before he covered them both and feel asleep beside a blissfully dozing John.

#

When Madison showed up for office hours the next morning, they found Murderbot packing a box. "Hi, Madison. Should we move after your office hours or have our housemates specified a time?"

"No one spoke to me at breakfast. I can check messages." Madison had noticed a few odd looks cast their way as they filled their tray that morning, but they had been thinking more about the meeting last night than about moving today. Suddenly Madison felt a lot less awake and not at all prepared to deal with another big event.

Then someone with a large, loud voice called from the door, "Hello, do we just walk in?" Then they walked in. "Hi, I'm Lauren Ng. Pluto said I should ask you about moving into the new tower?"

"Me?" Madison sank into their desk chair. Lauren was small compared to her voice, but still bigger than Madison, with a swirl of complicated braids piled up even higher. Watching the way Lauren assessed the room suggested it could use improvement. "I don't know if there's any plan for that yet."

"Pluto meant Murderbot." Lauren moved over to where Murderbot was packing. "You're the one who mostly wrote the proposal, right?"

"Yes." Murderbot spoke while neatly bundling wires. "If you read it, you know the current community members have to consider new residency requests together. I can add your name to the first meeting agenda and let you know when that's scheduled. Full name and contact info?"

Lauren gave the information. Murderbot didn't need to write it down to remember, and Madison had no doubt there would be a community calendar and meeting agendas in their future.

After Lauren left, Murderbot set a tablet in front of Madison with an Avengers fanvid showing at human speed. It was over two minutes of superheroes dropping things, falling on their asses, making a mess, and then smiling or shrugging it off.

"Thanks," Madison said.

"While you were watching, I sent a schedule planner to all initial tower residents to find out moving plans and possible dates and times for our first meeting."

When two more people appeared at the door and tentatively knocked on the door frame, Murderbot set up two chairs on the opposite side of Madison's desk and then came around to sit beside Madison. "Have a seat." They motioned the newcomers forward. "I'm Murderbot and this is Madison Miller. What can we help you with?"

"Uh," one with brown hair and light freckled skin said, "I'm Penny Lewandowski. My pronouns are she and her."

After a pause her friend said, "Hi, I'm Kei Walters, pronouns they and them." Kei had darker hair and skin and sat up taller as they spoke. Madison managed brief eye contact and received a smile. "We're part of a writing group. Some of us write fic. And we were wondering if one or both of you might want to join. It's very informal. You could come meet the group before you decide."

"When do you meet?" Murderbot asked.

"After dinner. We try for every week but aren't really that consistent." With barely a pause Kei continued, "You can share up to 3000 words for the whole group to read and discuss between one meeting and the next. But lots of people just beta or request feedback individually and then chat about their research or current enthusiasms when we meet."

"Sounds nice." Madison honestly thought it sounded amazing. "But how do you even know I write?"

"Well, your name was also on the proposal for the community led tower." Penny sat up and looked around as a couple of CatBots entered the room.

"It's pretty much an open secret that you and Murderbot are the hippogriffs who submitted the proposal in game." Kei continued. "And Kusanagi is your graduate advisor. If both Murderbot and Kusanagi write fic, it seems likely you already do or will soon. So which is it?"

"I think Murderbot chose me for my fic," Madison admitted.

"That sounds like a fun story. Will you come meet our group?"

Kei added them to the writing group's chat and calendar as Penny picked up an interested R2-D2.

#

"Good sunlight, Healer Carson. Do you need help moving in?" a voice called out from beside the new tower.

Carson was dazzled by the bright outdoor light as he spotted Lansol, the other patient in need of a liver, reclining in what looked like a lawn chair in front of their new tower. He was propped up with extra pillows and had a water bottle close to hand. Hanso, who'd been pushing Carson's wheelchair, paused when they were both a few feet in front of Lansol. Ronon rested the boxes he'd been carrying on a nearby planter.

"I think we can manage," Carson answered. "You look well settled already."

"Healers Taran and Follaz have been working since dawn." Lansol gestured back toward a ground floor suite designated for the new clinic patients. "I'm enjoying the sun. And your city is beautiful, as promised. I've never lived where I could hear and smell the ocean. Now I may never leave."

Carson knew from his serious undertone that Lansol did not think he could survive anywhere but Atlantis. Remembering his own suffering and hopelessness from just a few days before, Carson said, "I'm glad you're here with us, to help start this new community."

At that point Healer Taran emerged through an open sliding glass door. "Carson, this location is wonderful. We've set most of our floors to be solid for the wheelchairs, but they can be made soft and springy enough to serve as beds if we're ever overcrowded. Each room has its own temperature setting. And I've barely begun to explore the equipment Healer Somchai sent to the fifth floor. Have you been up there yet?"

"No, we're just moving in now," Carson said. He'd had both physical therapy and a counseling appointment that morning. "We'll be on the top floor, but the transporters can bring you there in an instant."

Taran gazed up, squinting against the sunlight, then wiping her eyes to meet Carson's. "I know. I have so much to learn, but I'm sure we'll see each other often. Here, there, or on the fifth floor, we'll be good neighbors. Thank you for making this possible."

"I played only a small part," Carson said.

"Only you see it so," Taran furrowed her brows in a way Carson remembered well from their time working together. Then she swept her gaze to those beside him and said, "Our thanks to you as well, Hanso and Ronon, for all you've done for Healer Carson and this new beginning. I look forward to working and living together."

"Thank you," Hanso said as Ronon made some gesture against his chest.

Then Dr. Biro came hurrying through the sliding glass door from inside with a medical bag over one shoulder. "Hanso, I thought I heard your name. Did you see that Backup Brain confirmed your results regarding patient negative one?"

Three lights flashed. Hanso excitedly waved their tablet with the one appendage not steadying the wheelchair or carrying containers for their move.

Carson was happy for Hanso even as his own blood ran cold. If Keller was in fact patient negative one due to exposure, through her work with the Hoffan virus and with his degenerative condition as a clone, then he was in some sense doubly responsible for a species level extinction event. Even if most people in Pegasus and SGC might be happy for it—even if his therapist warned him against taking too much responsibility on himself—it was a terrifying reminder of the unintended consequences of even the most well-intentioned medical research.

Meanwhile, Biro had continued talking to others as she walked, "Taran, Follaz is looking for you inside. Lansol, thank you for providing extra samples. Carson, I think I've had a breakthrough in using your immune differences to suppress organ rejection." She paused when Carson didn't respond, and for a moment he thought she'd guessed his dark thoughts. Then her gaze fell on the pile of boxes beside Ronon and all the containers hanging off of Hanso. "But maybe I should let you get settled in first. I'll send you the data to look over when you have time."

Carson knew he should be pleased, that a new system for immunosuppression derived from his clone immune system should offset some of the guilt he felt about the past. But how could he know what unintended consequences might come from this new research? He tried to smile in the face of her enthusiasm. "Thanks, I'll look forward to that."

Hanso blinked three lights again.

With a quick goodbye to the others, Carson and his little group made their way through the tower's front door and into the main transporter to reach their new penthouse rooms.

"I didn't expect to be the first ones here," Carson said to Ronon and Hanso as they entered their new home. The large main room was silent, the white walls turned warm by the afternoon light streaming in through a bank of large windows. The give to the floor didn't seem to hinder Hanso in pushing the wheelchair, but Carson offered, "I could try to adjust the hardness of the floor or the tint of the windows if either of you care."

"Don't care," Ronon said pacing the length of the living area, checking sightlines or something unknown to Carson.

Hanso moved their head forward so Carson could see them blink three lights.

After only a glance at the kitchen and into each interior door, Ronon said, "We choose first. Which do you want?"

Carson had been told all four suites were the same. "I'm sure I don't care. Do you have a preference?"

Ronon crossed to the first doorway on the left. "This one."

Carson wheeled himself the ten feet to where Ronon stood and was glad to find the inner doorway easy to navigate in his chair. He stopped by a window on the far side of the first room that was also as wide as a door. A large bed and two nightstands filled most of that wall, with a smaller window up above. Open doors on one side showed large closets and on the other a spacious bathroom and medium size second bedroom or office. Hanso immediately began inspecting with their cameras and the tube-like appendage Carson had seen when Hanso inspected his previous room.

After depositing a roll of blankets on the bed and two large boxes on the floor, Ronon raised his arms up above the closet doors and said, "Okay if I keep my sword here?"

"Why would I mind?" Carson asked.

"Used to have it above my bed. Got some strange comments from Earthlings, so I didn't suggest that."

"You should have your things exactly where you want them in your room."

Ronon furrowed his brows and swiped a hand downward in a negative gesture that Carson didn't quite understand. "Thought this was our place?"

"Yes, and I hope we'll sleep together most nights. But don't you want your own room?"

"Why?" Ronon asked.

He was frowning in a way Carson hadn't seen before, and that hit him like a punch to the gut. On top of the revelation about Keller and the doubts about his own culpability that had stirred up, Carson felt like he couldn't breathe for a moment.

As Hanso wheeled to his side from the corner he'd been studying, Carson was glad no one else was present to witness this conversation. "I don't know how to answer that," Carson began. "It's nothing against you. I would like nothing better than to share a room and a bed with you whenever you want."

Ronon moved a hand down the center of his torso, and Carson thought of the line Ronon had said could tear him wide open. "Me too. Isn't that why we're moving in together?"

"Have you ever shared space with someone that completely before?" Carson barely forced the words out. Hanso blinked two lights and motioned their antennae in a request to speak that Carson ignored.

Ronon shook his head, still looking sad. "I didn't mean to upset you. I can take the other room."

He took a step toward the smaller room but stopped when Carson held out a hand and Hanso beeped. "Please, wait. I think there's a misunderstanding." Carson forced himself to take a deep breath, and Hanso flashed three lights. "To me, it seems like a huge adjustment for you to go from living alone for so long to sharing even a bathroom and access to our rooms. I imagined you'd want more time, that constantly sharing a room and bed wasn't the expected next step. It wasn't that you were upsetting me. I was afraid you'd regret rushing into this. Maybe I was biased by my own background?"

Ronon grunted. His posture relaxed a bit. "Take your time and think. Sharing everything may have been more common and expected on Sateda, but I know Earth is different. We both need to choose. I'll make the bed, so at least you have someplace to lie down when you need it."

Carson breathed slow and deep, watching Ronon lift and inspect underneath what appeared to be a heavy, large mattress and then adjust sheets and blankets to fit. He made it look effortless. Ronon was still so young and strong, patient and considerate, too.

Hanso blinked three lights again, evidently pleased with Carson's breathing. Perhaps the bot had thought Carson was having a panic attack, but it was more that he'd choked on his own emotions. What had started with professional guilt had morphed into insecurity about his relationship with Ronon. And while Carson still didn't feel he had much to offer, he wasn't going to let his own negativity poison whatever they had. At the very least, he couldn't stand to hurt Ronon that way.

Carson had shared rooms plenty of times as a traveling healer, in university, at conferences. But he'd never had a relationship so serious that he and his lover intended to share all they had all the time. Even if he knew there would be other options for him or Ronon if this didn't work out, it seemed like a very serious step after only a few days. But perhaps he should see it as several years of very gradually coming to know each other, as Ronon seemed to.

When Ronon finished making the bed with Carson's blue and white quilt on top, Carson asked, "Would you want this even if I we couldn't have sex, even knowing I might get worse or end up bed ridden?"

"If you ever need to sleep alone because you're too sore or not sleeping well, I will give you the bed to yourself and not mind at all." Ronon came close and crouched beside Carson's chair, on the opposite side from Hanso. "It hurts me to think of you in any more pain or unable to leave our bed, but it only makes me want more time with you for whatever we can have. I will say this every way I know to help build understanding. But you need to tell me what you want."

Carson didn't know how to match a declaration like that. He placed both hands on Ronon's shoulders and said, "I want you."

"Good." Ronon leaned forward and kissed him tenderly on the lips. They hadn't done that before. Carson hadn't known if it was something Ronon would want. As Ronon pulled back, Carson felt breathless in a much better way. Even Hanso didn't act concerned.

Ronon smiled and said, "Let me finish getting us moved in."

Before Carson could protest or look for some way to help, Hanso waved an antenna in the way a child might raise a hand to seek attention. "What is it Hanso?" Carson asked.

"There is a bot lift between these two rooms. If you wish to give bots direct access, you can think the doors open and unlocked."

Carson did so, and a space the size of another doorway opened between the larger and smaller bedrooms. It turned out the space between the walls there was at least a meter wide, probably the width of the smaller room's closet as well. "Will all bots have access at all hours?" Carson asked.

"Whatever you decide, all BotKin will respect. The protocols for the walls only needed a resident with the ATA gene to unlock this. Would you like me to show you how your wheelchair could attach to use it as an emergency exit?"

"Why not?" Learning about Ancient designs for bot access and emergency escape routes seemed like the most useful task Carson could manage at the moment. When he discovered the bot lift could be set to open on either side, it occurred to him that Hanso might like their own room, now that Carson and Ronon were sharing the larger one. The idea gave Carson a warm, family feeling.

#

Rodney carried his laptop, two tablets, and an Ancient scanner into the penthouse and almost dropped them. Through the doorway to the left Ronon was holding his sword above his head. "Not an intruder. Not going to fight you for that room. Seriously, shouldn't you keep that in a sword safe or something? We'll have Madison and young impressionable bots around."

With a huff, Ronon placed the sword onto almost invisible wall hooks above his closet. Then he turned to Carson, whose legs and wheels were barely visible from where Rodney stood, and said, "See what I mean?"

Carson laughed.

Rodney stomped over to their room as John called out from behind him, "A little help here?"

But Rodney had already reached the left doorway and caught sight of Hanso standing on a bot platform between walls, "That wasn't here before. I didn't even know the Ancients built those into bedrooms."

"In most towers they did," Hanso answered.

"It will give Hanso better access to their room without rolling through ours," Carson said, "And they've shown me how to hook the wheelchair in for an emergency exit if the transporters aren't working."

"Of course, the utility lifts use pullies and counterweights. We never thought of them as emergency exits because there aren't that many in the main tower and they're large and hard to control manually." He glanced at Hanso. "If you're not a bot with a motor and attachment points."

"These lifts are a later and better design," Hanso said

"This tower was built for BotKin," McKay almost whispered, as close to reverent as he ever sounded.

Hanso blinked two lights. "For all forms of BotKin and BioKin together."

"Obviously," McKay rolled his eyes, then turned back to Carson and Ronon. "Good job claiming a room first, but you're lucky you didn't claim mine."

As he hurried away to see if John had started unpacking in their room, he thought he heard Ronon say, "As if I couldn't tell they'd already used the room on the right."

#

Well after lunch, when they finally reached the moving time the others had agreed upon, Madison and Murderbot couldn't even make it all the way to the new tower before they were waylaid in the middle of the Southwest Pier.

"Happy moving day!" someone no bigger than Madison but with a very deep voice called out. "I am Griffio of the Emerald Dragon Clan, or Norton from geology in real life." Shifting a large rolled object under his left arm, and holding his right hand out to Madison and then to Murderbot he added, "Pronouns he and him. Everything you said at the city council meeting so needed saying. Not that we weren't impressed enough with your proposals both in game and in real life. We are so pleased to help start a new community with you in the amazing Hippogriff Tower."

"We are not calling it that," Madison interrupted.

Murderbot only shrugged.

Norton winked, and Madison wasn't sure if that meant he'd been joking to begin with or that he was brushing off their objection now. Either way, he continued as if Madison hadn't spoken, "Even before you more or less revealed your real life identities at the meeting, I'd designed this tapestry. I used a programmable loom I built myself to weave it, and I couldn't wait to give it to you. With gratitude and great respect, from the Emerald Dragon Clan."

Madison had barely thought about the gamer coalitions that had banded together saying they'd move into the tower if the real life proposal was approved. They'd left it up to Murderbot and those who knew people on Atlantis to handle such details. Now all they could say was, "Wow, thanks," as Norton unrolled a tapestry as wide as his extended arms and almost as tall as he was. Two hippogriffs posed behind gray crenellations, presumably atop the game version of the new tower, with an orange and red sunset like flames behind them. The black hippogriff looked to one side, wings at rest, either keeping watch or enjoying the view. The white hippogriff with a single large black spot had one leg raised on a crenulation and wings mostly unfurled, as if about to leap into flight.

"Was this a screen capture?" Murderbot asked, reaching out a hand to trace or scan the weave.

"To begin with, but I had to adjust the graphics for my loom, and I chose the sunset colors because they looked cool behind both of your hippogriffs." Norton had lowered the tapestry enough to show his head above it, and the pose reminded Madison of Kilroy graffiti.

"You made this as a present for both me and Madison?" Murderbot spoke more slowly than Madison was used to. When Norton nodded, Murderbot said, "Thank you. No one has ever made me a gift before. I am surprised and very pleased."

As Murderbot owned their emotions, Madison grew pleased right along with them. Once again, the situation involved something specific and personal, but it wasn't like the fanfic decision that Murderbot had plenty of opportunity to think through ahead of time. This time, Murderbot was surprised and reacted with pleasure in the moment. If they hadn't been convinced before, that would have been enough to prove to Madison that Murderbot was fully sentient, and probably a more social person than Madison would ever be.

"I'm glad you'll be part of our tower community," Madison said. "I'm sorry we don't have anything to give you."

"Are you kidding?" Norton rolled up the tapestry and handed it to Murderbot who added it easily to the load they were already carrying. "You gave us all access to this fine tower, with the best charter ever, in the Island Empire and Atlantis." He saluted them and headed back up the pier.

"I think I might like him," Murderbot said.

By the time they reached the tower and then the penthouse, everyone else was busy moving in. Madison called out, "Hello, which room are we in?"

They heard Uncle Rodney say to someone, "Stop. Don't touch anything until I get back." Then he greeted them in the mostly empty living area with, "Take either of the back rooms. Carson, Ronon, and Hanso are over there. John and I are in here." Then he disappeared back into his suite and immediately resumed ordering John around.

Madison took only a moment to wonder if anyone else had expected her uncle to claim a suite all to himself and then expect free reign in his boyfriend's rooms as well. Then they wondered if the soundproofing was as good within the penthouse as between rooms in the main tower. "Let's try the second door on the left."

It led to one enormous bedroom with a large bathroom and quite reasonably sized second bedroom off to one side. "Would you mind if I took this one?" Madison asked from the smaller room. "I might want to close the door and be alone sometimes. Since you're always awake, I'm guessing it would be easier for you to move around and come and go this way."

"I can come and go easily from either room if you activate the bot lift, but I am happy to have this one. People walking through will only entertain and not bother or distract me." Then Murderbot showed Madison how to unlock the bot lift. Together they moved the bed from the first room into the second. The bathroom turned out to have doors to each bedroom and they both agreed Madison should lock the entry from the larger room for now to keep anyone else from walking in unexpectedly, since Murderbot had no need for a bathroom.

"Where should we hang the tapestry?" Murderbot asked.

"Do you want it in here?" Madison asked, fairly sure of the answer.

Murderbot nodded, and together they chose a place next to a large window and hung the hippogriff tapestry.

"Does that window face west?" Madison asked. "We arbitrarily call the sunset direction west on new planets, right?"

"Southwest, but we should be able to see the anachronistically named sunset through that window."

Madison rolled their eyes. "The crenellations on the tapestry tower are also an anachronism compared to where we're living."

"Game architecture that parallels Ancient architecture. The Ancients built this first."

"I know. But I'm still amused."

"Good." Murderbot started to unpack their boxes, which surprisingly included several throw pillows in between electronics. "Shall we set up the larger equipment and some floor seating in here? We should also check for game updates."

Madison activated the room's Ancient console and set up the motion sensor device first. While Murderbot checked their account on Island Empire, Madison dug deeper into the box of electronics and found metal shelving components. "What all did you pack?"

When Murderbot didn't answer, Madison went to lean over their shoulder. On the game screen a proclamation posted on the door of city hall declared the hippogriffs' charter had been approved. They and their allies had secured the new tower in game. Madison smiled and touched Murderbot's shoulder, the first time it felt natural to do so. "I knew you'd win out, but thanks for taking me along for the ride."

"I was wondering why it took the Elevated Council so long to decide. There was a 97 percent probability the game would parallel real events in awarding this tower. An announcement last night would have fit previous patterns, unless some larger change was to be implemented simultaneously. Look at the text chat, here." Murderbot highlighted several comments about a change to the terms of use, all concerning one key link: "A new verification process to allow BotKin and non-expedition members of the Atlantis community to create their own game accounts is available here."

"Wow. How does it feel to win a tower and new rights for your people and some others in two worlds?"

"I don't know how I feel." Murderbot turned to face Madison and not knowing how to feel seemed to be contagious. "You can hug me if you need to."

"Don't think I didn't recognize that quote, Murderbot." Madison wasn't always comfortable with hugs, but it felt right in that moment. At least one of them probably needed it, even if neither was sure which one.

Half a minute later, they were both setting up Murderbot's new Island Empire account. Half an hour later, they'd arranged a sweet home theater (and computer science lab) in Murderbot's room.

Madison had taken barely five minutes to unpack everything that belonged in their bedroom and bathroom when Murderbot asked, "Do you think we should invite people over for a movie night?"

#

Rodney followed his nose to the penthouse kitchen as soon as he'd arranged his tech and bedding to suit his own—completely rational and necessary—requirements. John was still struggling with an Ikea-esque entertainment center he'd traded his old furniture for.

"Do I smell pizza?" Rodney asked.

"I'm teaching the bots and Ronon to make cheesy garlic bread and minestrone," Carson called from the far corner of the kitchen. He was adding spices to a large soup pot. Ronon and Hanso were diligently chopping vegetables while H511 and several CatBots watched. Data raced to greet Rodney as Carson said, "I hope you don't mind, Hanso invited some friends. We should discuss unlocking the bot lift in our main room so they don't all have to come through our bedroom."

"We unlocked the lift in my room," Murderbot said as they entered with Madison. "They can come and go that way."

"And we're all set up for a movie night if people want to join us after dinner," Madison added.

"All of us?" a CatBot asked, Rodney didn't see which one as he was busy picking up Data.

"We set up a special viewing shelf with all of you in mind," Murderbot answered, and was greeted with many happy beeps and waving antennae.

"Um, are they all living in the spare room?" John asked.

He looked a little shell shocked, so Rodney went over and kicked him. "They'll take that as an invitation if you aren't careful."

With a shrug, John reached one hand to rest on Rodney's shoulder while the other gave Data a friendly pat. "I'm okay with whatever the rest of you want."

"Really?" Rodney worried for a moment about further memory loss and then realized he hadn't talked to John about BotKin in a long time. "You aren't worried about privacy or the robot uprising anymore?"

"I never said anything about a robot uprising, but I supported this building being open to BotKin. I knew Murderbot and Hanso would be living here. So as long as we all control our own privacy in our rooms, it's fine with me."

"Do you hear that Data?" McKay petted his favorite bot. "You and your friends can have a room here."

Data wiggled to get down and once on the floor raced into the rear right suite calling "Dibs on the smaller bedroom for all CatBots."

"Okay with everyone else?" John asked.

Murderbot and Madison nodded, as if it went without saying for them.

Ronon said, "Sure," without looking up from his chopping.

Carson said, "Of course, but can we get the rest of the vegetables into the soup before everyone's too distracted? Perhaps the rest of you could arrange for a dining area or at least a picnic blanket?"

#

That night, after the BioKin ate their fill of the dinner the BotKin helped prepare, they all gathered together in Murderbot's movie room to watch _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_. Madison was instantly glad that they had a room of their own to retreat to if needed, because there were a lot of people all talking and brushing against each other. But for the time being, they brought the comforter and pillows from their bed to supplement the seating on the cushiony floor.

"Did you make a wall hanging of your hippogriffs?" Uncle Rodney asked as he gaped at the wall decoration.

"Their hippogriffs?" John asked.

"The Emerald Dragon Clan gifted it to us," Madison replied.

"Emerald Dragon Clan?" John asked, with a possibly sarcastic drawing out of each word.

Murderbot added, "They want to call this Hippogriff Tower."

"Healers downstairs want to name it after Carson," Ronon said.

"I'll support the hippogriff name," Carson insisted. "Now what's a hippogriff?"

As Ronon explained a bit of Harry Potter backstory for Carson, the only person in the room who hadn't already seen the third movie and all the rest, Rodney explained to John about Spot and Blackbeak as well as their newer allies. Hanso used the bot lift to bring up some sort of reinforced lawn chair from the ground floor, and somehow Ronon ended up sitting behind Carson in that with Hanso to one side and H511 crowded in on the other. Carson blushed but didn't protest, and Madison wondered how long the two of them had been together.

John took one look at how Ronon and Carson were seated and pulled Rodney, still lecturing about Island Empire factions, practically into his lap amidst the throw pillows Murderbot had previously arranged in one corner. Rodney glanced briefly in Madison's direction but didn't stop talking to protest.

Murderbot sat beside them, legs out in front rather than in their usual triangle configuration, and Madison ended up with their own pillow and comforter, bundled comfortably between Murderbot and their own bedroom door.

A couple of CatBots seemed to have invited a round SamplerBot to share their shelf, who surprised Madison by using some sort of vacuum system, possibly with magnetic assistance, to roll right up the wall to the CatBot shelf.

When Data wound around their feet to request a place on Rodney's lap, Madison said, "I wouldn't mind holding a bot or two."

Lassie rolled up on Madison's right waving both ears, and R2-D2 climbed down from the viewing shelf to sit on Madison's left leg. By the time the movie actually started, Murderbot was holding Pluto and Cheshire. Madison saw John pull Rodney and Data in closer and was just as happy to have Murderbot between them and the couple. Overall, Madison felt more at home in the mixed crowd of new housemates of all different shapes and sizes, than they could remember feeling in years.

Then Murderbot leaned over and whispered in Madison's ear, "I like having a room of my own to share."

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! It was pointed out by a friend that readers who like Madison, BotKin, and the medical science in this story might also like "The Color of Fear," a piece of original fiction I also posted on Ao3 (even though I wrote it fourteen years ago and it doesn't have any slash). I'm terrible at predicting who will like what, but I promised I'd pass that on for anyone who's curious.


End file.
